#this is so gooey i feel like i should hide my face in my hands

[rozaceous]

tcba epilogue: sasumari snippet

this was the main bulk of the epilogue, written even before i posted tcba on ao3. that is how old. ergo, some grain of salt w details pls as it is a v rough draft and some things would have to change for continuity or whatever, but this is the thing it all was angling for. sasumari qpr confirmed.

Watching Sasuke handle the freshly-changed newborn with such intense gentleness while she scrubs off her hands with a shake of chakra, Mariko is bludgeoned with the realization that Sasuke likes babies, and that a sense of responsibility hasn't been his sole driving motivation. And while she reels dizzily from that revelation, she thinks, We can have babies.

And then Mariko stops thinking for a while because that was one too many revelations for it not even being dawn yet.

She has no idea what they think they're doing in the first place. The two of them coming across a raided village with a dying pregnant woman that Mariko hadn't been able to save, and then deciding that they couldn't just leave an infant in a smoking village to die, and then not trusting that the girl wouldn't just meet the same fate the next town over had turned into Mariko manipulating her own hormones to be able to nurse a two day-old baby. And here they are, nearly two weeks out, traveling with a baby in between destabilizing hidden villages and international economies and dodging mercenaries, and she's realizing that the truth of it is that neither of them is gutsy enough to say that they don't think they're giving her up besides all of that. Instead, they've been politely not talking about just such a thing so that they can maintain their fiction of being ruthless shinobi instead of a pair of dysfunctional nineteen year-olds who randomly adopt a baby together despite leading desperately dangerous lives.

God and her boobs hurt. Breast-feeding is no joke; her nipples are chapped and her boobs are sore from going from zero to nursing in the span of thirty-six hours. Her entire upper torso hurts, actually, from having to accommodate the abrupt change in her weight, and the hormonal shift means that she's breaking out for the first time in her life because she's too busy maintaining the hormones and keeping a newborn alive and happy besides her usual maintenance of the Sharingan to have focus to spare to use medical chakra to get rid of her acne.

At least she hasn't actually given birth, because Mariko isn't sure she would be even moderately functional if that were the case.

But instead of pondering any of that mess too deeply, she lets Sasuke bundle the baby up to sleep with him and passes the fuck out. Shun has watch, it's fine.

She doesn't say anything in the morning, either. She feeds the baby, feeling all sorts of soft and sappy and not entirely sure that it's entirely hormonal, because when she looks up, Sasuke is staring at her from across the campsite, staring at them, and to anyone else his expression might be unreadable, but to her all she sees is naked want.

And fine, it's only been a week and a half and by civilian standards they aren't even legal adults yet, but Sasuke has never once complained when the baby cried, has taken her for changing numerous times without Mariko asking, does extra chores, and asks to hold her. Granted that last is in his own, 'I'll take her' Sasuke-style verbiage that makes it seem less about him expressly wanting to do so, but Mariko knows him. And Mariko knows that if she were so diametrically opposed to this entire enterprise, she never would have made herself start lactating, and would've foisted the baby off on the first set of reasonably competent-looking parents she could find, that she wouldn't sing to the baby to calm her from her fussing, wouldn't share comments with Sasuke about how small her hands are with one of those hands gripped around her pinky, wouldn't speculate with him what color her eyes would settle as. (Sasuke thinks dark blue, but Mariko thinks black. She says that she has statistics on her side and Sasuke says that he has the power of basic observation on his and is she sure she isn't still colorblind.)

So to see him staring like that doesn't surprise her as such, but it makes her look away because of how naked it makes her feel to look back. And not naked as in, here she is in the middle of a mountainous forest tits-out kind of naked, because if this was about clothes then they've seen each other naked plenty of times, but naked as in, returning his gaze means he knows that she's thought 'we can have babies,' or at least the equivalent of that thought, and having Sasuke know that about her when she's only known that about herself for less than twelve hours is a bit much.

And so yes, it's all less surprising and more very tender feeling, like a spot that's liable to bruise, and Mariko is just enough of a coward to not to want to prod at it too much.

Instead she looks down at her baby--

And slams the mental brakes because yep, she's in for it now, she's really done it, there's no going back, the river has been crossed. Ha. Ha ha.

Well. No more fooling herself.

She looks back at Sasuke, who's still watching them, makes a sort of tilt of her head that means come here, and then Sasuke's at her side instead of filleting fish, kneeled on the ground where she's cross-legged.

"She needs a name," is what Mariko says, almost like she's hearing someone else say the words. "We can't just keep calling her anoko or Ko-chan." She pauses, thinks a moment, and says dubiously, "Unless you want to name her Kou. I guess that would be…efficient."

Lazy is more like.

Sasuke's eyes go a bit wide. He looks down at the child in question. "A name, huh?"

---

They return to the base in Sound by the time Yasumi is a month and a half old, and she's snug and hidden in her wrap against Mariko's chest under her kimono top and haori, so they don't draw many strange looks until they're waylaid by Juugo and Karin as they're setting down their packs in their dusty entryway and Mariko has to dodge Karin's hug.

"Uhh," says Karin, confused and apologetic, looking her over more carefully, questing for injuries.

"I'm fine," Mariko says hastily. "It's just--"

As if cued, Yasumi starts to whimper and snuffle.

All four of them freeze, and Mariko tries not to glance sideways at Sasuke like a caught-out preteen.

"Is that…a baby?" says Karin cautiously.

"Maybe," says Mariko, like a dumbass.

Yasumi cries louder. Mariko winces and starts shifting fabric around until she's latched onto a nipple. Juugo only seems to realize he's staring at her naked boob after several long moments of shared speechlessness, and then looks away politely, if wild-eyed.

"I'm pretty sure there's no 'maybe' about that baby," says Karin, sounding a bit faint. "Like, that is definitely a baby sucking on your tit, Mariko."

"I mean, you're not wrong."

Sasuke is determinedly not meeting anyone's eye.

"I'm sure that we didn't leave the two of you alone long enough for this to have happened," Juugo says.

Mariko feels a deep flush cover her face, sees something similar happening along Sasuke's cheekbones and ears. If they weren't in the middle of having to explain a mystery baby, she'd think it was adorable. She's only seen him blush a handful of times in her life.

"Five months is not long enough for a baby," Karin agrees. "So why--how--baby?!"

"We found her," Sasuke says. "Her mother died, the village was basically ash--we couldn't leave her."

"So naturally the best option is to just adopt her," Karin says sarcastically.

Neither Sasuke nor Mariko reply to that.

"Oh my god!" Karin bursts out. "Seriously?! You found some strange baby and decided to just keep her?!"

Juugo closes the front door.

"You two are some of the most wanted people on the entire Continent! The bounties on your heads are worth a small country! And you just randomly adopt a baby?! Are you stupid?! You--I--since when are the two of you even sleeping together?!"

Mariko and Sasuke frown in unison at that, because what does that have to do with it?

"Technically we've slept together since the age of twelve," Sasuke says, surly.

"Oh, don't be--you know what I mean! Whatever, you've been doing the whole bedroll-sharing thing for years, blah blah! I mean, Mariko's had this whole under-the-table booty call thing off and on with Haku, and you two are connected at the hip, but you've never been together." But Karin retracts the finger she's been jabbing in their direction, looking between them with sudden uncertainty. "Right? You weren't--you're not together?"

"We haven't been secretly having sex for the past few years, no," Mariko says dryly. Meanwhile, Yasumi detaches herself from her breast, making soft noises. "Not that it's your business, really."

Karin puffs right back up, bright hair tossing over a shoulder, and hands on her hips. "Well, excuse me, but when you bring back a baby together and are implying that she's yours now--you're basically saying that you're her parents!"

Mariko stiffens, because that's a word that she's successfully avoided thinking, even though she's thought the equivalent of its meaning with quite a bit of depth. But when she looks over to Sasuke, he's just frowning at Karin, apparently confused.

"Who else would I have children with but Mariko?" he asks.

Karin has no reply to that; her jaw is locked open. Juugo has his eyebrows up, but doesn't look like he's had the rug pulled out from under him the way Karin does.

Mariko--Mariko can't say exactly the same as Sasuke, mostly because Sasuke says it like he's never even thought about having children except in the context of 'with Mariko.' And Mariko, in contrast, has thought about having children a lot, because talented kunoichi without bloodlines were considered valuable in a way that meant that there was a lot of semi-public conversation about who she'd make a good match for back in Konoha, as soon as she'd visibly hit puberty. Shinobi placed a lot of stock in--well, in one's stock, and to avoid inbreeding to the point of injury, clans liked to bring in fresh blood that was unlikely to rock the genetic boat. Or, hopefully, improve it. And having graduated in a class full of clan heirs and with bloodline geniuses for peers, while herself having gotten a swift series of promotions and an apprenticeship with one of the village's most notorious shinobi…Mariko had always been considered a hot commodity insofar as the older generation was concerned. Her relationship with Haku had garnered a lot of attention, and the possibility of him marrying into Konoha and having children had been a big reason for it.

So if Mariko's ever thought seriously about having children one day, she'd either thought that it wasn't likely because she was planning a societal revolution and was likely to die before reproducing or just be too damn busy, or she'd thought that she might pop out a kid or two with whomever was most convenient to marry and do her best not to fuck them up irreparably.

Hearing Sasuke essentially say that he wouldn't consider having children with anyone but her is functionally the same as when she'd thought 'we can have lots of babies' in a sleep-deprived stupor: it's a conclusion that she should have arrived at sooner, but is incredible and stunning in how normal it felt when she stopped and really thought about it.

Mariko takes Yasumi out of her wrap and faces her towards Karin.

"She's super cute," Mariko says solemnly. "We named her Yasumi. She sleeps a ton and is ridiculously snuggly. We want you to be her godmother."

She shifts Yasumi into Karin's arms, who takes her seemingly on autopilot with an expression like she's been hit over the head. Mariko doesn't even have to tell her to support her head.

Karin stares at Yasumi like she's never seen a baby before in her life.

"We were going to ask both of you, actually," says Sasuke. "To be godparents."

"Me?" says Juugo, alarmed.

"You," Sasuke confirms.

"Naruto'll be pissed when he finds out," adds Mariko, "but I basically raised that guy and he shouldn't be allowed around small children unattended for at least another decade. Besides the whole political situation thing."

"If it's really that important, he can be a godparent later," Sasuke says dismissively.

Mariko turns to him with narrowed eyes. "Someone's getting ahead of himself."

Sasuke seems to realize what he's said and looks as close as he ever gets to sheepish. "Sorry."

"Mmhm."

"Of course this is what you do," Karin says dully. "We leave the two of you alone for five months and think, 'Oh, well, the plan is already for them to fuck things up, how bad can it get?' and then we get reminded that it's you two and that when left unattended you'll both take down an international human trafficking market and find a stray baby to adopt."

"They weren't necessarily any better when we were there to try to stop them," Juugo says, smiling crookedly as he stands closer to Karin, peering at Yasumi. "I know you remember starting an entire labor movement with the civilian printer's guild in Grass when we were just there to steal a press."

"Just because I remember doesn't mean I want to be reminded," Karin grouses.

Sasuke apparently is satisfied that the situation is more or less resolved and sets about unpacking, dragging their bags just off the kitchen; Mariko follows suit and sweeps her chakra around the hall's surfaces, and then the kitchen's, and collects all the dust into a single great bunny of allergens, opens the kitchen window, and has it hop outside. Sasuke turns to stare at her for that last bit.

"Gross," he informs her.

She just shrugs. She animates dust into literal bunnies--sue her. It's not her fault that not everyone appreciates a good pun.

[sunflowersteves]

hey love!! if you're still taking miggy requests, can I request Miguel and short reader? (like 5ft)

He's being his usual grumpy self, but every time he sees them clambering on the counter to reach something high up or grabbing a chair to reach a high place, his stern expression just breaks and he usually covers his face to hide his amusement.

He also teases them for being short and if their romantically involved he definitely uses his height to his advantage to make them weak in the knees /.\

Or whatever you come up with it! 💕

Thank you!

tarren my love, i squealed when i saw u requested something of miguel. as a five foot zero inches girly pop, i was MADE to make this fic

warnings || reader is short, height differences, fluff, making out

masterlist

Miguel let out a long sigh as he closed the door to your shared apartment. It was well into the evening—11:45 pm, as it read on the clock, to be exact.

He could feel the rage and anger that still sizzled through his veins. Today was hard. Today was a shit-tastic day and was full of fuck ups upon fuck ups.

So, he probably slammed the door much louder than he anticipated. The sound made you jump in the kitchen, startled by the booming sound.

You were so engrossed with checking the oven that you hadn’t even looked up at the clock in over an hour. A smile slowly crept up onto your cheeks, though. You knew that particular sound.

“In here, baby.” You called. Your voice echoed across the apartment, and it seemed to put him into a trance.

He slowly sauntered into the spacious kitchen. He could almost feel how all of his ire had prodded its way through every single step he was taking.

It felt heavy. All of it felt so heavy.

He walked through the doorframe, huffing out a breath, and then immediately stopped in his tracks at the sight his eyes took in.

You had been baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies before he got home. It was supposed to be a surprise—and supposed to be done—but you had forgotten one ingredient.

Salt. You always put extra flakey sea salt on top of the gooey chocolate cookies. Then, to your dismay, the salt that you had needed was unfortunately on the very tippy top of the biggest cabinet in the kitchen. You were on the highest part of your tippy toes, and an arm stretched out as far as it could reach.

Miguel’s entire anger dissolved at that very second. You gave out a quick huff before stretching out your fingers just a little bit more.

Unfortunately for you, you didn’t grow any inches.

Miguel smiled. He turned his head, and he smiled. His lips curled at your continuous attempts to reach the salt.

It was so fucking cute. He swore his heart could burst. Little did you know that you were the only one that could truly do this to him. He had to turn his head to look away from you before he burst out laughing.

“Let me get that.”

You could feel him hover behind you. His tall stature sent shivers down your spine. Your head didn’t even reach the middle of his pecks, and god, did he relish this.

He loved the way your body curled up against his—so small and so perfect. He loved the way your hand just about fit his palm (he might have been a bit dramatic, here, but still).

He pressed his chest up against your body. You gasped at the full pressure of his chest and hardened stomach up against your back. His arm followed your own, and his hand brushed up against your fingers. Your whole body felt like it was going to catch on fire. You were so sure.

“I’ve always got you, sweet thing.” He says before swiftly taking the salt down.

“Thank you, baby.” You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You were too dazed to do anything for just a moment. As if knowing that, he smirked.

“Next time, I’ll just get the stool.” You say more to yourself. God, he was so distracting. It was insane.

He scoffed. He was not going to tell you that he had gotten rid of all of the stools and ladders in the apartment. “Why need a stool when you have me?”

~

“Should we go to bed, baby?” You ask after finishing the last cookie you had set aside. Miguel’s favorite was always right after they came out of the oven. He liked them hot and gooey.

His eyes locked with yours. “I don’t know, sweet thing. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the thought. “What do you mean?”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Miguel is standing up. With habit, you’re standing upright with him.

He just smirks. He knew you’d follow him.

He immediately towers over you—dominating—and staring intensely into your eyes. “You missed something when I got home.”

You blinked. You blinked again. Your mind was blank.

You open your mouth to respond, but he’s quickly crowding your space. Your mouth quickly snapped closed, and your breath shallowed at how large he is.

Now, he’s pushing you, ever so slowly, to the nearest wall. “You forgot to greet me with a kiss, hmm?” He chuckled darkly into your ear. “How could you forget?”

He takes your wrists and traps them against his large hands, and places them above your head. He pressed hot, wet kisses on your jaw and they start to lean down to your neck.

“Look at you. I haven’t even said anything, and you’re already a puddle.” You open your mouth again, but nothing can come out.

Your mind is blank, and all thoughts and feelings are rushing about the man in front of you. He was just so tall.

His lips crashed against your own and it took all of the breath out of your lungs. His tongue swirled against your own, and his hand squeezed the base of your wrist.

Your lips molded against one another as he nipped and sucked. It was heavenly. He was heavenly as his body seemed to press further into you and the wall.

He bit against your lip and pulled back, but before you could even react with a small moan, his lips are back onto yours in full force. His smooth lips caressing each and every part of you.

Suddenly, his lips disconnect from yours. He takes a good look at you and smiled. You were entirely kiss-drunk on him. Your lips were swollen. Your chest was heaving up and down. Your eyes were completely hazy.

It was a sight to see.

“Let’s get ready for bed, querida, yeah?” Your body was screaming at you for letting his arms detangle from your body.

His whole form sauntered off, and you were left there by yourself, flushed up against the wall. Your chest heaved up and down—reeling in the feeling of his body pressed up against yours.

You never wanted that feeling to go away.

“Yeah. Bed.” You whispered—the biggest smile spreading across your cheeks. Every night, his large arms wrapped around your shoulders and stomach. You would sleep like that all night.

“Bed sounds good.”

[moonlight-prose]

accidentally staring a bit too long at their lips w/ fritz bestie please i am begging he has kissable lips 😩

EARTH ANGEL

a/n: because manny jacinto is finally showing up my dash constantly, i felt like i had to write something for the one and only fritz. this is courtesy of us just screaming about him. a nonstop convo about how beautiful he is. also cause top gun summer 3.0 is necessary when the weather hits 90 and you want to crawl out of your skin. this is unedited and beta read by you babes.

summary: what does it mean to belong to someone? to be stuck in their gravitational pull, to feel that cosmic connection that makes breathing difficult when they were away.

OR a dance, a song, and the aspect of forever all leads to one conclusion. falling in love with fritz was inevitable.

word count: 3.2k+

pairing: bill ‘fritz’ avalone x f!reader

warnings: so much fluff it’s scary, romance, the hopefulness of two hopeless romantics, fluff, flirty vibes from our man fritz, he's obsessed it's so cute, the good gooey feelings that make people do stupid things for love.

Celebratory cheers bounced off the walls as you did your best not to get knocked on your ass. People crowded the bar, beer in their hands and requests for more flying off their lips. And you did what you could to sink into the corner. Away from those that were already on the road to slurring their words given the demeanor of the setting. People were floating on cloud nine. Over the damn moon as the mission they stressed over suddenly became a success.

The condensation dripped onto your hand, slipping down your wrist when you took a sip. You should have wiped it away on your sundress, but the scene before you distracted every one of your senses. Rooster was three beers in, a shot of something amber beside him, as he sang at the top of his lungs. His fingers danced over the keys.

Surprising given that he was tipping over the piano, his eyes glazed and gleaming. A group of pilots you tried to make sense of practically fell beside him, their voices shouting above the others. The serenity of bliss drawn on their faces. You figured they were the ones who'd accomplished the job.

"Can I buy you a drink honey?" The drunken slur of a pilot tripping his way towards you nearly threw you off, but with a tip of your beer and a lazy smile you watched him accept defeat. His eyes already set to a redhead seated at the bar - her gaze locked on him with a hunger you only felt for one man.

"You shouldn't hide away," Phoenix called, sliding into the corner with you, two beer necks wrapped in each hand. Another round to kill the stress of the day—to remember they weren't just pilots.

You grinned. "Who says I'm hiding?"

A quirk of her eyebrow and a murmured mhm called you out faster than you anticipated. Hiding wasn't the prerogative. If you had another beer in your system, you'd be sitting by Rooster attempting to match his note for one of your own. But celebration wasn't to be had if the one you were waiting for hadn't waltzed through the door yet. His friends trailing behind him, wolf whistles traded for smirks from pretty women at the bar.

"He'll be here soon," she said, nodding towards the door. "Mav kept them longer than usual."

"Who says I'm waiting for someone?"

She laughed, a shrug thrown your way as she meandered through the mess of rowdy pilots. "Who says you're not?"

Any other pilot would have figured you wanted away from the noise, any of them wouldn't have seen how your eyes fell to the door whenever it swung open. But Phoenix...she could see the faint emotion that shone in your eyes. She saw how you laughed a bit harder in his presence, how he actually talked longer, how your hands brushed when you thought no one was looking. You were an open book, and Phoenix was rapidly turning the pages to see how this particular story came to an end.

"Phoenix—"

The call fell on deaf ears as she rejoined her boys. A seat procured for her by the pool table within seconds. They may give her shit left and right, but you caught the way respect bled from their hearts when she entered the scene. A comradery that left even you breathless.

They'd die for each other.

They nearly had.

You nearly wondered what that felt like: being so in tune with someone your whole body lit up when they entered a room. Yet the echo of the door swinging open—a cheer of a voice you recognized - yanked the breath from your lungs. Seconds passed like hours, and the hair on the back of your neck stood to attention, as you turned. Already searching the crowd for that someone—the other half of your cosmic connection.

If you had a favorite color before catching sight of his eyes, you couldn't remember it. The inclination of your favorite song was diminished the second his laughter fell upon your senses. You suddenly couldn't recall a day where you didn't breathe for him, where your life didn't hold meaning unless you shared a smile and said hello. He'd become the sun, and you found you didn't mind being dragged into his gravitational pull. As long as you could orbit around him without end.

"Penny!" Harvard yelled over the noise of Rooster doing encore number three of Great Balls of Fire. "Three beers please and thank you!"

You smiled into your beer, the bitter flavor flooding your taste buds as a third member of the dynamic duo appeared in their midst. His head turning, eyes flicking through the throng of people, as he searched rapidly. He smiled at Yale, nodded his head at a woman who rammed into him, and finally caught your gaze with a deep exhale.

And suddenly...you could breathe properly again.

He mumbled his farewells, snuck the beer off the counter, and slipped quietly towards you.

People believed he remained silent because Harvard and Yale were loud enough for him. You found he had plenty to say. As long as someone was willing to listen. If it were up to you, he'd never stop talking. Simply so you could hear the deep echo of his voice on a constant loop. Your favorite tune, ever since he caught your eye at basic training. The question of an empty chair beside you suddenly turning into so much more.

"You're still in your flight suit," you said, hoping the light airiness of your voice was enough to avoid thinking about how your skin turned hot the second he showed up.

When it came to Fritz...you became aware of yourself in a way that didn't exist. How you moved, how you spoke.

Before him you were in darkness. He simply figured out how to turn on the switch and allow light in.

"Yeah," he let out another breath, sipping at his beer. You tracked the drip of condensation that fell on his neck, your stomach twisting at the sight. "We got the ritual speech of why we didn't go. You know the one."

"Ah. The I'm sorry but you're still a great pilot speech."

He smiled and the ground vanished beneath you. "That exact one actually."

"I'm sure he...added a cherry on top of the bullshit."

Fritz choked, laughter spilling from his lips like a contagion you longed to catch. When he felt joy, you partook. When he laughed, you couldn't help yourself. He was an addiction. The reason why you even came to San Diego in the first place.

Whether he knew that was a different story altogether.

"I'm guessing you made it out early." His eyes fell to your white sundress, red flowers sprinkled along the near sheer fabric. "Nice dress," he mumbled into his drink, eyes a bit darker than before as they trailed upwards, stopping briefly at the way it was pulled into a tie above your breasts.

You'd done it into a mess of a bow, hoping the look didn't resemble too much of a present. His gaze barely came up to your eyes before falling again, transfixed by the sight. And you found you didn't mind if he unwrapped you with the same glee as a kid on his birthday. You wanted him to.

"Thanks," you replied softly, the quick echo of your heart deafening against the noise of the bar.

Rooster's name was being chanted like a prayer, his body shimmying and swaying as he began to start up another round of the same song. People were more than happy to sing along with him. Until the familiar hum of the jukebox prickled in the air, a slow song blaring from the speakers. You leaned up on your toes, eyes catching the sight of Hangman appearing from the back of it with a glare on his face. His middle finger directed towards a half drunk Rooster; who met him with a finger of his own.

"Serves Rooster right," you began, turning back to Fritz with a flutter of your skirt. "That would have been number four."

He snorted. "Only Rooster wouldn't get hit for that."

"Oh I'm pretty sure Hangman was five seconds away from it."

The Penguins crooned softly as people began to calm slightly, dispersing to tables and disappearing out the back towards the firepit. And you stood there silently with Fritz, your beer now tepid and disgusting. If you had the chance, you'd have asked him to head out to the firepit, but he turned back towards the bar. Probably for one more drink.

"Right." You pulled at the skirt of your dress.

You wanted to play it back, say something entirely different. Ask him to join you by the fire pit with another beer in his right hand and your palm in his left. But the words were stuck like molasses in the back of your throat, fighting against release. Phoenix was begrudgingly dancing with Bob, her lips refusing a smile that you knew lingered beneath the surface. And Fanboy sat beside Payback, crooning the lyrics as best they could.

The temptation to join them pulled at your chest, an echo of that yearning for comradery appearing again. Perhaps if you asked Fritz he'd say yes. You could follow their lead, enjoy the night before you went your separate ways once more.

You could pretend to be whole for one night.

And life would feel worth living.

"Hey Avalone—" You were stopped short by the sight of his hand stretched towards yours, his lips in a small smile that screamed hope. That pleaded for an answer to this unspoken question.

Like the rest of them...you replied silently. With the belief that words simply weren't enough in this situation.

Slipping your hand into his, you allowed him to lead you towards the empty spot near Phoenix and Bob. Dazed and slightly worried that the singular beer you drank was affecting you more than it should. Even as the actual reason had your hand clasped tight. You wanted to ask what effect he held over you, what intangible bond he created without your knowledge. It might give you an explanation as to why you felt this way: stuck in a dream filled haze, with only his light to guide you out.

And maybe one day Fritz would tell you he gripped you so tight for fear of him tripping. Maybe he'd finally explain why he told you so much, why his body buzzed the second you walked in a room. Maybe he'd tell you that he suspected he loved you after watching you fly a jet, but knew he loved you when you nearly toppled him over playing volleyball on the beach.

But for now...he expressed what he could without words. Afraid that if he opened his mouth, he'd say the wrong ones.

With a swift turn, he tugged you closer on unsteady feet. A full smile pulling at his lips when you grasped his shoulders for balance.

He wouldn't let you fall. Not here...not in the sky as your wingman, and certainly not out of the love you felt for him. People said this emotion was fleeting. A lost fictitious hope that merely existed with words on a page, but there was no denying how his heart grew warmer when you were near. How he knew he could speak to you for hours at a time, yet never run out of things to say.

You were it.

That indescribable thing no one could give a name to.

"I didn't take you for the dancing type," you joked, swallowing around your nerves that jumped across your skin.

He stepped closer, his arm slipping around your waist. The way your chest hitched didn't go unnoticed by him; although rather than mention it, he put you out of your misery and kept speaking.

"I'm not."

"Let me guess...it's the song?"

He shrugged, swaying you into a gentle step you could follow with ease. "Well...it's not not the song."

A quick glance over told you that the Daggers were eyeing the both of you with great interest. As if you and Fritz were the entertainment they'd been searching for all night. The turning point of a love story they'd been a part of for years. The page sat ready to be turned, the final line of the novel practically burning a hole through the back cover, yet you couldn't read what it said.

"So it's...only the song?"

"No." If it were any other night, you'd be sharing a plate of nachos at a booth somewhere in the back. He'd be three stories deep into a conversation, and you'd be falling a bit harder the longer you listened.

Tonight however, he seemed—nervous.

"No?" You wanted to pry open his thoughts, see what he believed this was—what you were to him.

"If it wasn't the song? If I asked you because of something else, what would you do?" His hand clutched yours a bit tighter, the familiar callous on the base of his wrist helped keep you grounded.

"Depends on what it is." You sucked in a breath. "Will I...I've been thinking—"

"Yes?"

Your eyes met his softened gaze, the echo of an emotion you couldn't place shone in the deep brown. And you wanted to beg him to explain it to you. To tell you everything he'd never said out loud, in the hopes they mimicked what you held near and dear to your heart every day.

"Ever since I've known you...um..." Getting it out felt as if you were attempting to delicately attempt a surgery - prying them free from your chest with a chisel. "Actually since the day we met...fuck...it's not easy to say."

He tugged you a bit closer as he turned. "I know." He smiled, eyes falling to your lips, the curve of their shape, how they formed around his name. "It's not just the song. It's you."

Breathing no longer existed as the beat of your heart went haywire. Could he feel the pulse of it on your wrist? The way it bent and twisted as if leaping from your chest. You wanted to respond, tell him all the things that went unspoken, but once he found his words...they refused to go unheard.

"It's always been you. I should have told you before tonight. Believe me—I wanted to. You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you." He let out a soft breathy laugh and you could practically taste his words on your tongue. "And I think you knew."

"Will..." Your teeth sunk into the flesh of your bottom lip, eyes falling to his as the words you longed to hear finally left them.

"I love you." The sting of tears burned your eyes, your hand clutching his shoulder harder as he kept going. "Since the first day." He laughed nervously and an image of him, you, and a house flashed through your mind. "Well actually. The day you knocked me on my ass playing volleyball is when I knew for sure."

"Yeah?" you murmured, fighting back the stream of tears.

He seemed to catch how the light illuminated them, his hand slipping from yours to cup your cheek. "Yeah. Only my girl could be that competitive."

His girl.

The story was written the day you greeted him with a smile. The ending inscribed into your futures with permanent ink, carved into the rock of your headstones. And you could see it now—the familiar dip in the road that matched his perfectly. Falling in love with Fritz was always in the cards. A play you had no choice but to make.

He was your forever the second you shared the same oxygen.

"Fritz..."

He smiled, thumb running across the apple of your cheek. "Yeah baby?"

Chills ran down your spine as heat spilled into your stomach. The polarity of the two nearly toppled you to the ground, but he held you tight. Unwilling to let you go.

The song was slowly coming to the final chorus—the noise of the bar didn't register to your ears anymore as you hung onto his every word. Desperate for him to say those three words over and over and over. Until he lost all the breath in his lungs.

"I hope you know I love you."

His lips pulled into a smile that held your attention in its grasp. What you wouldn't give to see that every morning and night. To be the sole reason why something so beautiful appeared. He smiled and you felt the gravity beneath your feet give way, your stomach bursting to life with a flurry of butterflies.

"I should have said it before this mission. Or even a year ago. But I was scared you didn't feel the same wa—"

With a soft chuckle, he dipped down slightly, catching your lips with his softly. And every thought, every explanation you could give him, died on your tongue. He was gentle with you, as if this was a new version of the dance you'd shared throughout the years. The steps, familiar yet foreign enough to trip you up. It wasn't until you sucked in a sharp breath through your nose, your hand finding its way to the hair on the base of his neck, did the hesitation fall away.

He itched to haul you to his chest and properly kiss you. But the burn of eyes prickled along his back. There was an audience, witnesses to the first step into your future, and Fritz felt himself tense slightly. If he had a choice, he'd show you how long he wanted this. How he ached for this.

He'd make up for lost time.

The song filtered to an end, a new one he couldn't place starting up. He refused to pull away.

With a sigh, you melted into his hold, a noise echoing in the back of your throat as his tongue slid along yours. The tang of his beer mixing with yours. He kissed you with the promise of more, the knowledge that tonight you'd take his hand and follow him home. You felt his hand bunch the skirt at your back, fingers digging into your waist, and you moaned softly—desperate for his skin to sear yours.

"Get a room, lovebirds!" Hangman shouted, leaning against the jukebox beer in hand. Yet he let the quarter in his hand slide through the slot, another love song clicking to life as he complained with a smile.

Fritz jolted back, his lips swollen and vibrating. He could still taste you on his tongue, still hear the echo of your moan in his head. You looked dazed, almost lovestruck. And suddenly he understood what it really meant to be hungry.

"Remind me to thank Hangman later," he mumbled against your lips, addicted to the way they curved beneath his.

"He'll take credit for this."

He shrugged. "I'm okay with that."

You locked your other arm around his neck, nose brushing his as you eyed his lips. The red stain on his cheeks had your heart skipping as many beats as it could. What you wouldn't give to have a picture of him like this. Stuck in a haze of love that you put him in.

With a stupefied grin, you felt him start to lead you through the next dance. The steps perfectly in tune with his—as it was always meant to be. "So am I."

[its-storminghere]

Carcar accidental baby acquisition where Carlos ends up taking in a baby and Oscar is the one to help him out

Okay so this trope can be really hard for me because for the life of me I don’t know how they get that baby but I’m doing this for you!! Sorry it’s actually about a toddler not a baby

Okay so Lando is hosting a big family event not related to F1, maybe his wedding (you can pick your own adventure on this one) Some F1 people are there including Oscar and Carlos but it’s a big group of people. Oscar and Carlos make some small talk at a couple of points but really they’re just mingling and enjoying the afternoon.

The children in lando’s family l o v e Carlos sooo much. He’s just the ideal of what a cool race car driver should be (as opposed to Lando who is just uncle Lando who likes to play video games and play golf with the adults, sorry Lando), but even better than that he’s FUN and he plays GAMES with them and he brings his DOG!! He’s been around enough over the years that the kids are devoted to him and obviously he loves being loved and he loves family

So plot plot plot, dialogue dialogue dialogue, Oscar is chatting with Lando and Carlos is near them getting a toddler game of footie going. Of course all the moms (and some of the dads) are all gooey-eyed about how good carlos is with the kids. Truly my own ovaries are screaming as I write this

And Oscar is seeing this and internally rolling his eyes because ohhh yes isn’t Carlos just the greatest, he’s so perfect with his hair and his driving like an asshole and his sexy voice - He hears enough about that at work, and now that they’ve been running into each other on the track all of his interviews mention Carlos too. But, he thinks, whatever, I’m here to support Lando in this unspecified special event

But then!!! The few security guys Lando hired are telling everyone to get inside because apparently there’s INTRUDERS who broke in that want to cause people harm!!! (Idk man)

So in the shuffle and the chaos one of the little kids attaches herself to Carlos and won’t let go!! Because her parents always told her to stay with trustworthy adults and she trusts Carlos!! He let her play footie even though she’s younger than the other kids!!

And someone the two of them end up with Oscar smushed into a small bathroom. And they’re trying to be quiet but the little girl is scared!! And Carlos sees that and he brushes her hair off her face and hushes her. It can be like a game!! He tells her. We’ll play with Oscar. I have to hide and you have to find me! The little girl’s sniffling stops and she looks up at them. Carlos looks at Oscar like back me up here man.

What’s Oscar gonna do but go along?? So he shows her how to cover her eyes with her hands and they count to 5 very slowly together so Carlos can “hide.” When they open their eyes the little girl immediately starts giggling because look Os-cah!!! Mr. Carlos is right there!! He’s hiding behind the shower curtain!!

And Oscar and Carlos make such a big deal about her winning and they tell her how smart she is. But now the game is over and they still haven’t gotten the ok to leave. So, Oscar says it’s his turn to hide, and while Carlos and the little girl count, he crouches behind Carlos’s broad back. He’s eye level with the hair just curling down Carlos’s muscular neck.

Before he knows it the 5 seconds are up and the little one is looking for him. Carlos looks at her very seriously, points behind himself, and winks. Then he turns and dives onto Oscar, wrapping his arms around Oscar’s torso and pulling him around so the girl can see him. And as Oscar feels Carlos’s big hands holding him, he’s like. Woah. Okay. Maybe Carlos is that great

And then the little girl hides and both guys pretend they can’t find her until they get the okay to go back outside. And they bring the girl back to her parents and she immediately informs them that Mr Carlos and Mr os-cah are her new best friends forever and they all need to have a playdate right now. Oscar is looking over at Carlos and thinking, yeah, maybe the two of us do need to have a playdate

[autisticlancemcclain]

“I know, buddy, I know.” Keith scratches behind his big dumb dog’s ears, pressing a million kisses to his forehead because he’s got Black to himself for the next day and there’s no one (Shiro) to clown him for it. Kosmo barks excitedly, wagging his floofy tail so fast it beats against the dashboard and system controls. Keith laughs, moving his scratching fingers down the wolf’s head and neck and to his back, where he likes to be scratched best.

“I know you’re hyper, huh?” he coos, blowing a raspberry. “But that’s what you get. You know you always get too excited when you hang out with Lance. You should have stayed with me.”

At the mention of the Red Paladin’s name, Kosmo starts howling, bounding out from Keith’s lap and tumbling to the floor, nails clacking against the metal as he flips around Black’s cockpit.

Keith huffs. “You raise a wolf from a pup, showering him in treats and affection, and you still fall second best to the first guy he meets who teaches him to fetch. Figures.”

It’s ridiculous, is what it is. Two straight years together on the space whale, but Kosmo lays eyes on Lance for one measly second and falls in love. He’s genuinely obsessed with the guy, and it doesn’t help that Lance is unbelievably smug about it, indulging Kosmo’s every whim and burst of affection just to grate on Keith. He has on twelve seperate occasions radioed the Black Lion to talk to Kosmo only, completely ignoring Keith.

“I can’t blame ya,” Keith says quietly. His voice is still a little teasing, still a little exasperated, but even he can hear the gooey fondness in it. “Lance is just that good, huh?”

Kosmo barks again, loud and fast, then flashes as he blips out of existence then back into existence right on Keith’s lap. Keith chokes as 200 pounds of floof is suddenly deposited on his person, but recovers quickly. (Kosmo will never remember that he is no longer a little puppy. Keith is just going to have to get used to having his lungs crushed.)

He starts to stroke Kosmo’s fur again, gently this time, calming him down.

“I should say something,” he says, more to himself than to his dog. “Ugh. I mean, it’s Lance, right? He’s my best friend. He’ll most definitely tease me, but he won’t, like, mock me or anything. He’s good like that. He knows exactly when to be serious, like during that last gala thing we had when we landed on a planet a while back. He just knew I was feeling off, just like that.”

Keith buried his face in Kosmo’s fur, hiding his smile. “He’s just…everything, you know? I’m always thinking about him. I have been for years. Hell, I talked about him so much on that stupid whale that you recognised him before you even met him, buddy. That’s objectively bonkers. But I can’t…” He sighs, leaning back in the pilot seat and staring unseeingly through the windshield. A red dot flashes gently at the bottom corner, but he pays it no mind.

“He’s sweet when no one’s looking. And even when people are looking, sometimes. And I’ll die before I even imply it in his direction, but he’s funny, too. And his fucking brain, dear God, that man could outwit anyone if he was under enough pressure. He saved our asses more than once when we were stumbling our way through this co-leading thing in the beginning. And anyone with eyes can tell that he’s hot.” Keith’s ears burn a little, thinking of the Coalition videos. “Seriously hot. And…leggy.”

He cracks up, embarrassed giggles bubbling up his throat. His next words are muffled by the hand he has pressed to his face. “God, I want him to fuck me up.”

Kosmo raises his head from where it was resting on Keith’s knee, staring at him in what Keith can only assume is judgment.

“Shut up,” Keith says hotly. “You once farted so loud you scared yourself and cried for ten minutes. You don’t get to judge me about being embarrassing.”

Keith is losing it. He is defending his character to a dog. He groans loudly, dragging his hand down his face.

“I should tell him, shouldn’t I,” he mutters. “Just — come out with it. ‘Leandro Esposita-McClain, I am in love with you.’ Straight to the point. Rip off the band-aid.”

Kosmo yips quietly. Keith snorts.

“Yeah, you’re right. That’s crazy. He’s my friend, I don’t want to ruin things. I’ll just suffer in silence the next time he looks at me and the fuckin’ sun bleeds into his eyes and makes them look like golden honey or whatever. Jesus.” He reaches for his book and props it open, muttering to himself. “It’s always the fuckin’ pretty ones that get me, huh?”

Kosmo barks loudly in what can only be agreement, and Keith scoffs, flicking him on the shout. “Yeah, yeah, you lug. Bug off with the teasing and let me read in peace, alright? I’ll tell him someday. He doesn’t need to know now.”

.

.

.

(A beep echoes through the Red Lion’s cockpit as her paladin slams on the ‘call end’ button, eyes wide and chest heaving, having listened curiously when he’d been radioed out of nowhere mid-conversation between the Bladk Paladin and his dog. And then listened in shock as the Black Paladin had brought up him. Brought up being in love with him, with his heart and his eyes and his legs, apparently.

Red blooms on his cheeks.)

———

based on this post by @petricorah

[chiriwritesstuff]

The Girl in IT - Chapter 4 - Gooey Sneak Peek

Here's a sneak peek at chapter 4, which should be released sometime this weekend! People are starting to notice Joel's affection towards our favorite IT girlie...

"What's up with you and Sugar?" Sarah casually strolls over to Joel's desk, perching her hip on the edge as she hands him a cup of coffee. "Maria said she saw the two of you at the mall yesterday," peering over him as he nervously takes a sip of his coffee, "… during working hours. She said you guys seemed mighty close and all, I guess she wasn't sick like Tess said?" Joel chokes mid-sip, coughing out the hot coffee as Sarah smirks at him. "So it's true, then?" "I guess I can't hide anything from you, baby girl," Joel replies in between coughs. "Should have known I can't get anything past you." "Well, I made a wild guess you were into her, being that I heard you singing 'Pour some Sugar on me" in the shower the other day. "It was being played on the radio, can't control what they decide to play, you know?" Sarah gives him a knowing glance as she makes herself comfortable on the chair in front of him. "Dad, the radio stations don't put music on repeat." She fiddles with the sleeves of her sweater absentmindedly, her face deep in thought. "It wouldn't be a bad thing, you know? You and Sugar. She seems like a very sweet girl. Kind of shy, but I like her." Joel arches an eyebrow. "Do you now?" She shrugs. "I mean, she is kind of young, but age is just a number, right? It's not like she's in her 20s. Besides, Ellie is obsessed with her. She's always at her office, picking her mind about her thoughts on 80s music. She's a good influence on her." Joel nods. "Ellie- I worry about her sometimes. Lord knows that I try to do right by her, adopting her and all that. Sometimes I think she needs-" "… a feminine touch?" "Something like that." Joel smiles to himself, his eyes still locked on his iPad as he continues his redline revisions to be sent off to the draftsmen. "I think her being surrounded by Tommy and I makes her too-" "Feral?" Sarah quips, chuckling. "Rough around the edges? Aggressive? It comes with the territory, I guess, with no mother figure around, you know?" she picks a hangnail. "Tommy said that she nearly castrated a client on the job site the other day for asking her out on a date." "That jerk was asking for it." Joel retorts, his back stiffening. "You adjusted well enough without a mother." Sarah sighs. "It doesn't mean it was easy, though. It would have been nice, you know? There's just things that I can't talk to a guy about, as much as you tried to be there for me." "This thing with Sugar, It's new - but I know what I feel for her." Sarah nods. "You don't need to give me all the details. I trust you, and if she's someone you want to pursue, I won't be mad about it, if that's what you're thinking. Like I said, she's a nice girl." "She's… fuck, Sarah, she's amazing. She takes my breath away, every time she smiles at me. Fuck. I feel like a teenager, being around her. I don't know what it is, but I always want to be by her side." Joel chuckles, smiling at Sarah. "I'm crazy about her." "Well, you must be if you're out here buying Teslas like you would coffee." Joel leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh? I wasn't aware that she bought a new car." Sarah crosses her arms, a skeptical look in her eyes. "Dad, you do realize I handle HR, right? I know what everyone's making. I find it hard to believe she's casually splurging on a Tesla, especially a Model X."

[bow-of-aros]

Day Two: Chase

Summary:

Ted made the grave mistake of smiling at his phone, so now Peter needs to know who he was talking to.

Ted is going to KILL him.

-

Alrighty so I've become completely obsessed with these two and this prompt screamed loving asshole older brother Ted Spankoffski. UGH I love them they're both so babygirl. Anyways apparently this month is me writing for new fandoms so enjoy!!

-

“Get back here you little shit!”

The little shit in question swung around the corner of their shoebox of an apartment faster than Ted could grab him.

Peter shoved himself behind their sorry excuse for a dinner table, Ted’s phone in his hand, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. The Spankoffski special.

“Oh come on! How old are you? Fucking five?! Get out from there and give me my phone back!” Ted faked a lunge to the left. Peter lurched to the right.

He is going to kill this kid.

His fuck-ass kid brother starts swiping through his phone, glancing up every other second in order to keep an eye on Ted.

“Look. If you’re not going to tell me why you’re looking all gooey-mushy at your phone, I’m just gonna have to figure it out myself!”

Ted can feel his face warm, so in a desperate attempt to hide it, he thinks fuck it, and fucking vaults over the table.

The screech that Peter let out was going to be something that Ted would hold over his head for the rest of his goddamn life. He’s almost proud of the self-preservation instincts on the kid as he basically dives under the table and scrambles to his feet, taking off again.

Except for the fact that he still has his fucking phone!

“Peter! When I catch you you’re fucking dead! Do you hear me?!” There’s no way that he couldn’t, there’s not exactly a lot of space. They’re basically just running in loops at this point.

“Just tell me who you were texting, Ted!” And there’s no chance that that’s happening.

So, the fifth time that Peter manages to dodge Ted’s snatching hands—which shouldn’t be possible because Ted is older and Peter is supposed to be lanky and clumsy. Where the fuck did the kid who tripped when he even looked at a corner go?!—Ted decides to employ a new tactic.

“Alright! Fucking fine I’ll tell you! Just give me my phone back asswipe!”

They’re in the living room. Peter is holding onto his still-unlocked phone with two hands which seems a little excessive, and he’s standing like he’s ready to run away if Ted even twitches in his direction.

“Tell me first, then I’ll give you your phone back.”

They’re both heaving for breath, and Ted is now in a very precarious position. He has to give Peter enough that he’ll let his guard down so he can get his phone back without actually giving anything away. If Pete is anything like himself, which of course he is, he’ll never let Ted live this down.

He relaxes his stance, dragging a hand over his face and letting out a defeated groan. Peter immediately lets his guard down because he’s gullible as shit, which is exactly what Ted knew he was going to do. They’ve played this game so many times and his kid brother still never learns.

Now to set the bait.

“I might have been, maybe, very possibly, totally hypothetically, just a little bit—”

“Oh my God Ted just spit it out!”

Bingo. Peter’s eyes are shining, he’s leaning forward, he probably thinks that he’s finally going to get some dirt on his older brother.

Not today.

“Talking to,” Ted pauses and takes a deep breath, “Your mom.”

And as the confusion flashes across his face, that’s when Ted pounces.

He grabs ahold of Peter’s arms and starts trying to wrestle the phone from him which should not be as difficult as it is. Pete’s hands are in a constant state of sweaty, so Ted should not be having this problem.

“Give me the phone, shithead!”

“We have the same mom you freak!”

Of course that’s what he was focused on.

At this point, Peter’s basically folded himself in half around Ted’s phone and Ted is getting real sick of this shit. He throws all caution to the wind and starts worming one of his hands between Peter’s arm and his stomach, holding the kid to his chest with the other arm.

And then, Peter shrieks.

“Hey, Petey?” Ted can basically hear the evil smirk spreading across his face as he speaks, “Do you feel like giving me my phone back yet?”

And all pride that Ted had felt in Peter’s self-preservation instincts goes flying out the window as he responds with, “You can take your phone, and shove it up your—wait! Tehehehed you ahahass! Don’t!”

Ted’s given up on grabbing his phone, now pouring all his focus into clawing at his baby brother’s stomach until he fucking cries.

“Yeah? That’s how you feel like playing this?” He has to raise his voice to be heard above Peter’s cackles, “Keep holding on. Let’s see which one of us can last longer.”

In a few more seconds, after Ted moves to the hotspot that is Peter’s ribs, it turns out that it’s Ted who can last longer.

Fucking obviously. He’s the big brother!

“Alright! Alright you wihihin! Teddy plehehehease!”

Ted’s gonna go right ahead and pretend that he didn’t melt a little when Peter called him Teddy for the first time in who knows how long. He has an image to maintain!

His phone thuds on the ground and Ted, the gracious guy he is, makes sure that Peter’s not gonna collapse the second he lets go before scooping it up. He promptly turns it off—how the hell is the thing still on?— and slips it in his back pocket.

“Well, kid, you gave it your best shot,” Ted pats Peter on the back, giggles still leaking out of him as he tries and fails to wipe the grin off his face, “I’m almost impressed, but no dice. Better luck next time!”

When he turns to walk away, Peter grabs onto his wrist. Lightly enough that Ted could pull away if he wanted to.

He doesn’t.

“Come on, Teddy. Would you please just tell me why you were literally giggling at your phone?”

Peter’s tone loses his teasing edge as he finishes, “I just wanna know what’s making you so happy.”

And, damn. Ted’s not sure if it’s Pete calling him Teddy, or the lingering smile, or the way those fucking puppy-dog eyes look up at him the same way they used to back when Peter was four and wanted Ted to take him out for ice cream, but he cracks.

Shit, he really is a softie.

“Well, if you must know,” Ted straightens up, dusting imaginary lint off his shoulders, “I was talking to my boyfriend.”

And then he bolts.

“WHAT?! BOYFRIEND?!” Peter’s outraged shout punctuates Ted’s maniacal cackles as the chase begins once more. “THEODORE SPANKOFFSKI YOU GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE I SWEAR TO GOD!”

Ah, how the tables turn. And, to be fair, this isn’t the worst way he could be spending the afternoon.

Maybe Ted should hide behind the dinner table.

[goatcheesecak3]

HELLO I HAVE A REQUEST

WOULD IT BE OKAY IF U WROTE SPECS X TRANS GUY READER???

like maybe reader comes out to specs and theres just a whole lotta fluff?

it totally okay if no ofc have a good day :)

Coming out

Specs x Ftm!reader

Warnings: none

Fic type: fluff

Summary: you come out to your boyfriend, Specs

A/n hello! This was such a sweet request! I'm not a trans guy myself, so I hope I did the experience justice! Also I should preface with the fact that I hc specs as being autistic, so there's indirect references to that in here too :^)

"Uh.. specs?" You said, nervously approaching your boyfriend.

Specs was sat hunched over at his desk, painting a warhammer figure in excruciating detail.

"Uh huh?" He said without looking up.

"I need to talk to you about something important"

Specs turned to look at you, his face seemingly concerned- although you could never really get a great read on what his facial expressions meant, he wasn't very good at non verbal cues.

With a deep breath, fumbling with your hands anxiously you bit the bullet and told him the truth that you'd been hiding.

"I think - no - I KNOW, I'm not a girl. I'm a man." You blew out, puffing your cheeks up, realising how hot your face got when you were nervous, "I'm a transgender man and I can't pretend I'm not anymore".

When you were met with silence, you slowly dared to make eye contact with specs, terrified that you would be faced with a horrified look on his face. Instead, his expression was entirely neutral.

"Approximately 1.03% of adults in the U.S identify as transgender" he replied calmly.

Your face twisted in bewilderment, what the hell kind of response was that?!

"Is that your only take away?" You said, sounding a little less afraid, but a lot more confused.

Specs began to chew absent mindedly on his paintbrush for a second, looking up to the ceiling in thought, before looking back at you.

"Would you like to start borrowing my clothes?"

To anyone else, this might have seemed like an incredibly mundane response, but you knew specs very well. As a rule, he NEVER let other people wear his clothes, he had very strict rules for how he liked his clothes to feel and he didn't trust that other people wearing them wouldn't "taint" that clean feeling. But here he was, so willing to to make an exception in the rule for you, just to let you know that he approved. Specs wasn't the best with the overly gooey romantic stuff, but in all honesty this meant a lot more.

"So I take it you're okay with this?" You said, cracking a small smile

"I was unaware that you were asking for my permission" specs replied, seeming far more taken aback by this than your "shocking" revelation.

You let out a small laugh and approached him, letting him gently wrap his arms around you.

"You know this would mean that I'd be your boyfriend now, and not your girlfriend, right?" You asked, making sure everything was clarified properly.

"Of course. I might not understand all the ins and outs of this at first, but we can learn as we go. You know how much I love learning new things," specs looked up at you, his eyes full of love, "as long as you're happy. I love you"

You smiled down, enjoying the tender moment.

"I love you too"

The two of you held eachother in a comforting embrace for a minute or so, and when the moment passed, specs was the one to break the silence.

"Uh... when I said you can borrow my clothes.. my socks are still off limits. I've seen the way you treat yours"

You let out a small chuckle and kissed the top of his head

"Alright babe, it's a deal"

[ramu-ego]

Helloo it's Ness anon💜 seeeing Ness in the new chapter leaks made me sad (fuck Kaiser, all my homies hate kaiser 🤬) so can you do Ness with feminization and hand kink?

chapter 202?? (or something dropped about 203??) god I skimmed it but I haven't like looked at it in depth except Kenyu my baby you best boy (it's true all the homies do hate Kaiser)

event ~ ♡ (closed) cw: fem!Reader, dom!Reader, crossdressing, m!masturbation, guided masturbation, degradation, feminization, referring to Ness's dick as a clit, unedited word count: drabble character(s): Alexis Ness

DNI :: minors, blank blogs + m!Reader blogs

"You love rubbing your clit for me don't you baby girl?"

Chewing the inside of his cheek there was nothing Ness could do but nod slowly as his hand worked up the length of his shaft to his swollen gland. One hand squelching the jelly like lube around his throbbing cock as he did so. While the other held up his beautifully pleated skirt so you could see it all out on display. Of course looking down at himself, with his mop of thick hair crowding his face to hide his desperate fucked out looked as he continued to stroke himself in front of you on his knees.

"Excuse me?" You reached out and grabbed the wrist connected to the hand squeezing up his own cock, "Does baby girl not know how to answer anymore? Should I show you how to rub your own little clit huh?"

"S-Sorry-" Ness managed when you stopped him from edging himself further, "Sorry- Yes- Yes I-"

"Yes you...?"

"Yes I love rubbing my clit for you ma'am." Ness babbled with his head following suit. Nodding like a cute little bobble head was all he could do as a grin spread on your face at his obedience, "Please. Please show me how to rub my clit ma'am. It hurts when it throbs...."

Loosening the grip on his wrist to a kinder one. Didn't alleviate the control you held over his body. Without concern for how he'd been stroking himself before hand. You took it at a speed you found more fitting for someone as desperate. Guiding his own closed hand up and down his shaft with the squelch of lube filling the room. Ness flush with color in his pretty little features as you did so. Vividly feeling the throb of his own cock when you moved his slimy hand to the tip of his cock and demanded he squeeze it a bit. Past his lips fell a pitiful moan that only confirmed your suspicions when a foggy bead of precum began to ooze out of his puffy slit.

"You know..." Mumbling as you ushered his closed fist up and down his length as more and more cloudy precum leaked from his slit. Each time his own hand swiped over his sensitive gland his balls would tighten up and his breathing would hitch in his chest. Only for you to draw his touch back down by your own guidance and restart the process all over again, "Some girls squirt...you gonna squirt your juices all over your pretty pretty skirt for me?" Your touch ushered his hand back up to his tip. When Ness held his breath waiting for you to guide him back down, his eyes grew wide realizing you weren't moving his hand away from his tip. A ticking time bomb as you encouraged him to keep squeezing his cock head while you stared at him with a grin, "Squirt all your pretty girl juices for me. I know you can do it. Make a mess like a naughty girl and- Oh! Oh there we are!"

There was no stopping it. Ness's legs trembling and the breath he'd been stealing away choked him as he gasped. Body trembling while you forced him to hold his own cock. The first thick rope of cum landing on your thighs. Follow by a dribble of a pathetic load while beads of thick gooey cum ran down his lube covered cock. Not mixing as you refused to let him stroke himself. Ness had to give into the mercy of his tightening body to let his orgasm finally play out to it's last little bit of drooling cum to roll down his shaft. Utterly exhausting him as he sat back on his knees limply with a sigh. Head hung low. He didn't even have it in him to look up and see what you were doing. All he knew was after all that his poor cock was still throbbing for more.

[oneforthemunny]

What about Janitor Eddie comforting reader after she had the baby and she’s feeling insecure about her body with the changes. Like I know he loves her no matter what

he's be so sad because he's obsessed with her no matter what. like not even on a "your personality is what makes you beautiful" like yes, he agrees, but also he think you are the prettiest person in the world. like the most beautiful and amazing, and every time you put yourself down it makes him so sad. genuinely sad, so for all of you who want to say bad things about yourself, picture saying it to janitor!eddie and his eyes get so sad and I hope you stop yourself!!!

but especially after/when you're pregnant. he's mind boggled that you think you're not a goddess, because to him, you are. a warrior, a goddess, the most amazing, strongest, beautiful thing on the planet. everyone around you should feel lucky that they're in you're presence because do they even appreciate that they're with the nicest, kindest, strongest, most beautiful being in creation???

he'd do anything for you. for your babies too. when she's throwing a little pity party about stretch marks, hiding while she feeds olivia, and disappearing to the bathroom to change he's like????

"baby, what's wrong?" eddie would ask after you got the kids to sleep. "is it your stitches? or do you need to pump? or need your cream?"

you're just standing, tears streaming while you cup your stretched skin. "I'm sorry," you mutter, turning to him with watery eyes. "I know this isn't... this isn't who you wanted to be with, and I swear I'll start eating better and-and doing more. I've just been so tired, ed, and-"

"what?" eddie asks, flinching and head shaking in genuine shock. "what are you talking about?"

"me." you croak, tears flooding down your cheeks and blurring your vision. "I didn't realize that-that it wouldn't go back to normal after I had her, and-and I'm sorry. you don't deserve to look at this, and see me like this. I'm sorry you have to see this."

"don't." eddie's voice is hard, stern- a tone you very rarely ever hear from him. his lips are pressed together, nearly angry, upset. your heart hammers for the worst. "did I... did I say something or do something that made you feel like this?" eddie asks softly, his own face crumpling.

you shake your head, sucking in a shuddering breath. "no, but-but look at me, ed-"

"yeah, I can't stop looking at you, baby." eddie says, not missing a beat. "you just had a baby. my baby. our baby." eddie whispers. "you had her in your body and brought her here all safe and sound, and-and you think I'd be..." he can't even finish the sentence, shaking his head and hand sliding down his face.

"I think you're beautiful. I think you're even more beautiful now."

you roll your eyes lightly, swiping your tears away. "don't lie, eddie."

"I would never." eddie said fiercely. "I don't know how you could think I was lying when every time I see you, I-I want to scream and cry and kiss you and hold onto you and run in circles all at the same time because you're mine. like you're really mine." his eyes trap yours, holding your gaze fiercely.

"and I thought you were perfection on the day I met you, and every single day you just get better and it makes my brain want to explode because how can you be so perfect in every single fucking way." he's rambling, truthful words spilling out of him like a fountain, leaving you blushing and sniffling.

"then you married me, and-and then you had a kid with me- two kids? you want to be with me and you love me, and fuck, you're so hot. I mean, do you know how hard it is for me not to want to fuck you every second of the day? do you even know what you do to me? you sneezed the other day and I got a boner, and you think.... you think I'm not attracted to you?" you giggled, eyes rolling gently at his admission. it made you blush, made you feel warm and gooey and loved. so fucking loved.

his hand is on your hip, rubbing over the stretched flesh, squeezing it lightly, lovingly. "I don't know how you can't see what I see, but I'll keep trying to show you, because you're the most fucking mind blowing thing in my life... well, you and the kids, but you, baby. you're on another level that I'll never be on in my life."

you blush, looking down at his hand. "I think you're on that level." you mutter, feeling him pull you close, mindful of your sore boobs.

"no way." he muttered, nose buried in your hair. "and that's alright. I'm happy just to watch you be you for the rest of my life. you're my favorite thing in my whole life. nothings beatin' you, baby."

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 2-Atsushi/Fyodor w/ Crossdressing and Breathplay(yes, i know rarepare)

Notes: Just pretend they’ve met in canon, also don't ask me how so much talking can happen in a three minute song, just don't. Also the waltz is Shostokovich Waltz no 2(because obvi)

This is partly inspired by this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23803525/chapters/57187927 but also just my imagination

“Excuse me, pretty miss.” This was so humiliating. “May I have your number?” Atsushi forced a smile and pitched his voice a little higher, just like Yosano had instructed. “I'm sorry sir, but I'm on a work trip. I'm afraid I can't accept any numbers or invitations.” The man slinked away sadly and Atsushi breathed a sigh of relief, carefully taking a sip of the drink in his hand. How had he gotten here, in the fancy ballroom surrounded by a bunch of drooling men. And most importantly, why was he dressed as a girl?

☠☠☠

“Dont worry Atsushi, you're going to look great!” Atsushi frowned, eyeing the hot iron Naomi was brandishing with apprehension. “Are you sure that's safe?” Naomi giggled, putting it down and picking up some silver hair extensions instead, talking with the other two over his head.

“Cute or sexy?” Naomi sounded way too excited. Yosano responded from her place across the room, looking through a rack of dresses. “Let's go with the unattainable sexy vibe. Maybe a slit dress and a fur?” Kyouka, the quietest, responded from her place beside Atsushi, filing his nails to even little rounds. “Black. He looks good in black.” She put down the filler, and picked up a small bottle of clear liquid, which she started spreading it on his nails. Yosano yanked a dress from the rack, and Atsushi could feel himself blushing all the way across the room. “This one?”

Naomi nodded, her hands pinning fake hair on Atsushi’s head. “Yeah that's perfect. Definitely going to attract a lot of attention. Should we go with pin straight or waves?”

“Waves I think, we're going for that sultry vibe.” Yosano responded. Kyouka was blowing on his nails now, finished with the first layer of gooey clear and moving on to a bottle of black paint. Two other bottles rested near her on the table, another clear and a shiny silver that sparkled in the light.

Yosano had hung the mortifying dress on a chair, and was pulling from a shelf of fur ruffs. She held up a tiger striped one, laughter in her eyes. “What do you guys think? Too obvious?” Naomi laughed, and even Kyouka giggled a bit. “Nah, it's perfect. Atsushi?” Atsushi startled, so used to them talking over him. He had to admit the ruff was funny, and if it could hide some skin he was all for it. “It's good Doctor Yosano.” She smiled, plucking the dress off the chair and tossing the entire thing at him. “Great, now go change please.”

The dress was as mortifying as he had expected it to be. It was a chinese design, with little clasps running along his collarbone, and short sleeves. It fit him like a glove, hugging his waist and hips snugly. The problem was the bottom half of the dress. It was divided in half, with two slits big enough for both his legs to show through falling all the way down the dress. He had to admit, it was a pretty easy outfit to run in, but the idea of showing so much skin in such a way was mortifying. The ruff was cute however, covering his shoulders and a bit of his arms. He slipped the small heals the girls had given him on and exited the room, and back into their clutches. Yosano whistles jokingly, while Naomi and Kyouka clapped enthusiastically. Atsushi blushed. Naomi was waving that weapon she called a hair curler around dangerously, and Atsushi spotted the cosmetics resting on the table. He sat on the chair they guided him to, surrendering to his fate. His eyes were closed, and the tap of brushed on his face was the only thing he felt for some time. As well as a concerning heat near his head but he was sure Naomi knew what she was doing.(He dearly hoped she did.)

The girls were talking over him again, but nothing of any importance, mostly chatting about different brands of makeup, and what perfume to use on him. And it was calming, at least until they informed him he was done, and he opened his eyes. He had to admit, he really did look like a girl. Or maybe a girl version of himself. They hadn't really transformed his features, just made his eyes appear bigger, the lashes longer. His lips were covered in a thin red glossy thing, and slightly sticky. They shone in the mirror, looking delicate and strange, but at the same time very beautiful. His hair was long and curled in big waves around his shoulders. The dress looked as mortifying as it felt, but the ruff helped hide the fact that he clearly didn't have any boobs.

Atsushi could recognize himself, but at the same time he could not at all. It was still embarrassing though. Three giggling women stood behind him, smirking. Yosano’s hand lands on his shoulder, gaining his attention.

“Now, it's time to test this baby out.” Atsushi feels a strong pulse of dread, as he's gripped tightly and dragged out of the room and towards the AdA office.

☠☠☠

One of the many reasons Yosano volaintered Atsushi for this job was the look on Dazai’s face, and hoo boy, he didn't disappoint. Shock, dead fucking shock with hints of arousal greated her as she and the girls dragged a dolled up Atsushi back into the front office. Kunikida’s expression was a treat too. More shock and arousal, mixed with cheeks the color of a tomato. Even Ranpo, sitting by the window as usual with a still wrapped lollipop in his hand, was so surprised an actual flicker of it showed on his face. Yosano was enjoying herself very much right now, and she knew the other girls were two. The only two men in the room who weren't a little turned on were the president and Kenji, and the pure shock on their faces made up for it. Yosano practically flew across the room, yanking the lollipop out of Ranpo’s hand, and unwrapping it, shoving it into Atsushi’s protesting mouth. He sent her a tiny little glare, but seemed to enjoy the lollipop, taking it out and licking it and definitely doing a number on the men in the room. Yosano was having a hard time holding back her laughter, Naomi as well, but Atsushi looked oblivious, going at his lollipop happily and oblivious to the state the room had been reduced to. Even if she had used up a good portion of the Agency’s budget on high quality hair extensions, she didn't regret a thing.

☠☠☠

And so here Atsushi was, dolled up and standing against the back wall of the grand ballroom, scanning the room for their target. He was supposedly a middle aged man with brown hair and green eyes, and apparently a total womanizer. That was why Atsushi was dolled up in the first place, the Agency had decided that it was safer to send Atsushi in than one of the women. And not safer for the women, no for the target. They were supposed to take him in, not kill him. Yosano had been the first option, but Kunikida had decided against it, because they all knew the moment the creep came close Yosano would(rightly) inflict some permanent damage. The same could be said for Kyouka, and anyway Atsushi didn't feel safe leaving here with some middle aged creep, and Naomi wasn't an option, because she didn't have a way to protect herself. So Yosano had joyfully suggested Atsushi, and here he was, at a grand ball, a living honey trap.

He sighed, leaning against the wall. At least it was pretty. The ballroom was gilded in gold, and the dancefloor was a whirl of skirts of different collars. The orchestra was raised on the side of the room, their instruments boosted with some kind of magic so the waltzes being played echoed loud enough for the entire room. The only odd thing about the picture was the strange ratio of men to women. The majority of the large crowd were men, and besides the seven or eight on the dancefloor, Atsushi spotted about twelve women in total. He suspected it had to do with the reputation of the host, and target of tonight's mission. John Remy was a businessman and a major creep, now also suspected of killing three women. And of course these missing women had been last spotted at these parties, so it wasn't a surprise that not many women were jumping at the chance to be a guest at said party.

The consequence of this decision was that Atsushi, one of the few ‘women’ not already with a partner, was subject to many requests to dance, lecherous stares, and bad pickup lines from a bunch of thirsty men. He could see the next one approaching now. Ice shot down his spine as he recognized the familiar face of Ango. Ango would totally recognize him, and then what? He needed to get away. He booked it away from the corner, as gracefully as he could while still trying to hurry, and towards the large crowd near the refreshment table.

In his hurry to get away, and in consequence that he was wearing heels, he smacked nose first into someone's shoulder. Temporarily blinded by white and fur, it took him a moment to realize exactly who it was he had bumped into. His heart leaped and fell at the same time as he took in that familiar grinning face surrounded by that familiar purple black hair and pale skin.

“My, what are you doing here little weretiger?” Fyodor’s accent was unmistakable, and erased any doubt that Atsushi might have had left that maybe this was actually Mori, or Yosano’s secret long lost twin brother. But no, it was definitely him, and Ango was closing in, and he would never live down the humiliation, and the undercover operation would be ruined. He steeled himself, and took a slightly less humiliating leap of desperation.

“Yes! I would love to dance!” Gripping one of Fyodor’s gloved hands tightly, he all but dragged him onto the dance floor, just as a waltz started. Fyodor seemed to catch on quickly, and Atsushi blushed as he felt his hand gripping his waist, the other one still clasped in his own. The waltz started, and Fyodor whirled him around, across the floor and away from Ango.

Fyodor chuckled lowly, even as they moved across the floor with the other dancers. “Im flattered weretiger.” A tap on Atsushi’s waist urged him into a turn. “To think you wanted to dance with little old me.” Atsushi flushed. “I was trying to escape certain humiliation and defeat.” Fyodor lets out a small laugh, as the music crescendos slightly. “But really, what are you doing here, looking like…that.” He pauses slightly, and the last word is laced with something Atsushi can't really decipher. He hopes the taller man isn't laughing at him. “I'm looking for the host, John Remy.” Another tap, another spin. He's glad Yosano taught him the basics before this mission. “Oh my.” Fyodor deftly avoids another couple, pulling him close for a second too long before they spin away. “Is he your type?” Atsushi coughs. “No! He's suspected of murder.”

“I see. Well, unfortunately he's not here today, I asked around.” Atsushi sighs. “Well, all this makeup and hair and dress for nothing then, Yosano is going to be disappointed.” Another tap, another spin, another graceful fall into Fyodor’s arms. “I wouldn't say it's for nothing.” Atsushi hates how attractive he finds this man, truly. “You have gained more than a few admirers.”

Atsushi has to laugh a little. “What? They only want to dance because there aren't that many women here in the first place.” The curls in Atsushi’s hair tickle his cheeks as he spins once again, as Fyodor pulls him close for the next part of the dance. Fyodor is taller than him, but only by a little, so as the song slows and Fyodor pulls him close, all Atsushi can see is the man in front of him.

Their noses are inches apart, their chests so close, one hand linked, the other still a hot brand on his waist, lulling him into a hazy state. Fyodor’s voice has gotten softer, and if Atsushi didn't know better he would almost call it sultry. A smirk still curves his mouth as he speaks. “Look around you Weretiger. They're all jealous. Jealous that you chose to dance with me, and not them. Jealous that I can touch you like this, have you this close, while they can only dream.” They get closer, and Atsushi cant breath, he can feel his heart beating through his chest. “You do look very pretty, although I prefer you in your normal state.” It almost sounds like Fyodor is complimenting him. His shock must show on his face, because Fyodor lets out a pleased little laugh. “I'll give you some free information, Weretiger.” Fyodor’s voice is a pur, and Atsushi is losing his mind. “Your target is currently stalking a young lady undercover policeman. They’ll have him in custody soon.” Relief floods Atsushi’s mind, temporarily distracting him from the fact that Fyodor is literally almost on top of him, so close they could kiss in the middle of this ballroom(and truthfully, he kinda hopes it would happen). And maybe he said that out loud, because as the song crescendos, Fyodor dips him, and presses the slightest little kiss to his cherry stained lips. And with that, the song ends and he turns to leave.

Atsushi’s hand moves of its own accord, catching the tail of Fyodor’s white coat and pulling the man to a stop. He feels a bit like he’s been caught in a trap, especially when Fyodor turns, his lips, stained with Atsushi’s gloss, curved into a smirk. But truthfully, as Fyodor leads him off the dance floor he can't bring himself to mind.

☠☠☠

It's cramped in the closet they’ve found themselves in, a little stuffy and full of coats, but as Fyodor’s mouth sucks little hickeys into his neck, his body pressing Atsushi against the wall he can't really bring himself to mind. The closet is a little off the main hall, down a small side passage and, in this den of rich people, virtually impossible to find. Atsushi thinks it's a coat closet, but he doesn't really have the brain power to think at all right now, not with a mouth on his neck and a hot dick pressed against his butt.

He’s pressed against the wall, fur ruff discarded somewhere on the floor, still clothed in the dress. Fyodor’s mouth is ruining him, leaving little hickeys all over his neck and shoulders, probably too many but Atsushi can't bring himself to care.

The demon behind him chuckles, as Atsushi grinds back desperately. “My, aren't you an impatient little one.” His voice is teasing, his accent is slightly thicker, the only sign of his slipping composure . Atsushi grumbles, his voice slightly too breathy to be convincing. “We need to hurry before someone discovers us.”

Fyodor's mouth leaves his neck, and Atsushi feels hands pulling his dress up, hitching it over his butt, and cold hands at the hem of his underwear, pulling them down. He's not even fully undressed, but the whole idea just feels so dirty, that Atsushi shivers. Then, a cold hand wraps around his dick.

Atsushi moans far too loud and Fyodor’s other hand comes around, sticking two fingers unceremoniously in his mouth to shut him up.

“Quiet little kitty, we wouldn't want to be discovered.” Atsushi does his best, sucking on the fingers in his mouth to keep quiet, but at some point he just gives up, and the fingers leave his mouth and prod at his lower hole. Fyodor’s mouth nips at his ear, voice throaty. “Have you ever been with a man, kitten.” Atsushi shakes his head, biting his lips to keep the whimpers in as a finger penetrates him, wiggling around a little, but stilling for Atsushi to adjust. “I see.” Fyodor chuckles, all rough and low. “I'm honored to be your first. Man, that is.”

It feels strange, but not uncomfortable to have a finger penetrating him and Atsushi finds his hips canting back a bit, urging the man behind him to move. The only sounds that penetrate the thick air in the coat closet or painted breaths and the occasional small grunt, as Fyodor begins to move his finger, setting a slow, deep pace. Atsushi lets his head fall back, his eyes falling closed. He would never have expected the evening to end like this, pressed up against the wall by a known enemy, still dressed as a girl, and having his insides pried open by one, no two(Atsushi lets a little moan escape his lips, still red with lip gloss as Fyodor adds another finger.)long fingers. He doubts even Ranpo could have predicted this, god he hopes Ranpo never finds out what’s happening, that would be mortifying.

Fyodor bends the fingers lodged inside of him, and presses against the side of his walls, trying to find something. Atsushi turns his head, about to ask what he's doing when Fyodor’s fingers press against something that makes his brain blank, and little stars float across his vision. He can't help the loud moan that escapes his lips, even as Fyodor levels a teasing smirk his way. “Careful little kitten, don't let anyone hear you.” He's mocking him, and Atsushi doesn't even care.

He does start to care when Fyodor removes his fingers. Atsushi suddenly feels all empty and cold, and he turns again, leveling Fyodor with an(admittedly pathetic) glare. “Why’d you stop?” The clink of a belt and the rustle of fabric greet his ears as Fyodor chuckles.

“Stop? My, we are just getting started.” And then something big and hot is pressing at his entrance. “Ready, kitten?” Faintly, Atsushi feels the slightest prick of apprehension, but it's far overwhelmed by the hot need in his gut, and his throbbing dick. So, Atsushi nods as best he can, canting his hips back against Fyodor’s cock.

The sting is slight, but mostly Atsushi simply feels full as he's penetrated, his poor neglected dick throbbing heavily. His back arches and Atsushi moans against the wall as Fyodor bottoms out, not even giving him a second to adjust. The pace he sets is brutal and oh, so good, and Atsushi starts to seriously wonder if he has a bit of a masochistic streak or something, as Fyodor does his best to bruise his insides. His thrusts are long and deep, he pulls almost all the way before slamming back in, one of his hands caging Atsushi against the wall, little grunts escaping his mouth. Atsushi knows he's moaning up a storm, but he can't really bring himself to care, even if someone may discover them. It's obvious that's the last thing on Fyodor’s mind as well.

“Feel good?” Fyodor is practically puring in his ear, his voice full of pride at the state he’s reduced Atsushi too, and honestly, it's pretty sexy. He nods his accent, his cheek scraping against the wall.

“And you sound so good, so pretty.” Fyodor continues, his voice throaty. Atsushi keens at the praise.“Such a pretty, obedient kitten. It's a wonder Dazai has not done you like this.”

“Dazai doesn't like men.” Atsushi’s voice is embarrassing, his sentences interrupted by moans. Fyodor seems to find his sentence slightly funny. But a simple, “is that so?” is his only reply. Another deep stroke, and a husky moan by his ear. “Well, he's certainly missing out.”

One of Fyodor's hands is still on the wall by his head, but the other makes its way up, carefully pressing Atsushi against the wall, curled around his neck. Atsushi’s moans as his airway is slightly cut off. He can still breathe the slightest bit, but it takes deep heaves, in between the moans of pleasure. Atsushi wonders if he’s crazy, because he feels his dick twitch, and the heat in his gut doubles. Fyodor chuckles as his moans double. “How dirty, you like being choked, little kitten?”

It's an entirely rhetorical question, but Atsushi doesnt think he could answer anyway. Fyodor doesn't seem to mind. Atsushi can feel himself nearing his peak, he's most certainly dripping precome all over the floor, and his heart pounds insistently in his chest, his moans more and more frequent.

He can tell Fyodor is as well, by the way his grunts and small groans become full blown moans. As his head drops into Atsushi’s shoulder, his hand from its position on Atsushi's neck wraps around his waist, pulling the men together until there's no space between their bodies. Is strangely intimate, and he's sure if Fyodor weren't on the cusp of an orgasm, the man would never do anything like this, but Atsushi feels almost honored none the less. He loves it, the feeling of love that comes with this position, and as his mind blanks out for a moment as he cums, he knows he screams Fyodor’s name, much too loudly.

Fyodor shivers behind him, and a hot feeling fills Atsushi’s ass.

The redressing act is subdued, Fyodor helps Atsushi clean himself up, tidying his fake hair and dress and placing the ruff back around Atsushi’s shoulders. Unfortunately, they can't do anything about the hickeys, and they remain, glaring proof about what had happened that evening.(although Fyodor looks suspiciously pleased by the fact). Atsushi leaves the closet first, and makes his escape from the party altogether. It's not too bad, although he does get a few stares as he excites the lobby, and calls a taxi. The taxi driver is thankfully silent, probably used to this kind of thing.

☠☠☠

Its now about eleven, and as Atsushi opens the door to the Ada, he's oddly touched by the fact that they stayed up for him. The younger ones have gone to bed, and Tanzaki and Naomi are absent, but the rest of them are here, sprawled across various chairs across the room. They look up when he enters.

Kunikida speaks first, still typing on his computer. “So Atsushi, how did it go? Were you able to apprehend him?”

“Apparently, the police had an undercover mission going, so I wasn't needed after all.” Atsushi says, sinking into a chair with a sigh, dropping the small purse Yosano had forced him to carry onto the table, and discarding the ruff beside it. “So it was a lot of wasted effort.”

Kunikida hums, but no one else responds. Atsushi frowns. “What?” Yosano is snickering, seated somewhere behind him. Kunikida is still typing, but everyone elses eyes are glued to him.

“What’s going on?” Eventually Kunikida, tired of the silence, glanced up. Atsushi watches in confusion as the man jumps to his feet, trips over his own chair and falls with a clatter to the floor, his face bright red. Ranpo giggles. “Well, I wouldn't say it was a totally wasted effort.” He motions at his neck and then it hits Atsushi, he swears his face is the shade of a tomato.

Ranpo hops off the desk, gathering all his snacks in a large bag and making his way towards the door. “Oh yeah.” He says, as he turns. “He left you his number, Atsushi. If he was that good maybe you should add it.” Yosano is choking on her laughter, but no one else seems to think it's that funny. Kunikida is still blushing as he asks the loaded question. “Who is ‘he’, Ranpo?”

Atsushi prays that Ranpo will just shut up, but of course, he doesn't. “Fyodor, you know, the strange Russian guy.” He sends them a confused look. “Wasn't it obvious?” He slams the door on the chaos that erupts behind him.

...

End Notes: Ango totally didn't recognize him, he just wanted to get a dance from the pretty lady in the corner, and she ran away from him. He definitely cried about it over a drink later. Also, ‘kitten’ is cringy, except when its literal

Taglist: @mulit05ho3st4n

[leffee]

Day 1: Strawberries

I'm doing it, yeah. We'll see if I'll be doing all prompts but I sure am doing this one

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Red, juicy, and scrumptious, in other words a perfect job well done meal. As such, Vinnie reached for more. However, apparently his eating was sloppy, because as Minka appeared back in the room entry with her hands behind her back, her wide smile fell a bit.

“Jeez, it's a mess in here! You're a mess too!” She pointed wildly, mostly at Vinnie's face, but the red substance was in even more places on her friend.

“I know, I know… but hey, you're not spotless either,” Vinnie observed continuing his meal after a gooey sound could be heard. Minka was red in quite a few places too, though he had to admit that her face was clean. For now at least, he had a feeling it would change soon.

“Nothing new,” She sang sung. “We'll clean it later.”

“Yeah,” Vinnie mumbled as he swallowed. “So, whatcha got there?” He leaned to the side putting more of his weight on his hands while stretching his neck.

“A surprise.” Minka entered the room while still meticulously hiding whatever she was holding behind her back and sat down before finally revealing the items. “Tada!”

“Strawberries?” Vinnie raised his brow. “Not bad, but I already have my food.” 

“No, silly, look!” Minka took one of the little red fruits and dipped it in the gash before them. After circling it a few times she carefully pulled it out, the strawberry now fully coated in blood. 

“Ohhh, so it's like dipping!” Vinnie beamed. “And you're saying it's better than just blood?”

“Eeexactly.” Minka threw the strawberry in the air, it skilfully landing in her mouth no more than a second later. “It's really good, you should try it,” She encouraged.

“Don't mind if I do.” Vinnie reached for the fruit and repeated his friend's actions with it. “Dang it’” He cursed once it landed on the floor instead of in his mouth.

“Careful with that, don't waste my previous paint.”

“Yeeeah, I know, no more throwing,” He promised before putting the strawberry in his mouth manually and biting on it.

“So, how is it?” Minka asked expectantly, leaning a bit towards him.

“Hmm.” Vinnie carefully measured each bite and let his palate decide. The taste sure was new, but the combination of the metallic and sweet was surprisingly… good! “I like it.” Minka nodded approvingly as they both continued. 

Reach, grab, dip, bite, chew, they went until the plate was empty.

“Satisfied?” Minka asked after a moment filled with contented sighs.

“Yup. You can do your thing now.”

“Awesome.” Minka stood up and bent down, putting her hands inside the wounds. They came out red after a while and she quickly skipped towards the canvas, the blood soon landing on the white material. “This will be my best painting yet!” 

Vinnie nodded energetically at her declaration; he was sure if would be. 

He got his food, Minka got her paint, everything was good in the world.

Vinnie stole a glance at Shahrukh.

Well, alright, Bollywood might have lost one of its more popular actors and some fans might be left disappointed. 

If only he was better to their friends, if only he was nicer to Sunil.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alternative title: Vinnie and Minka have no chill 😭

I'm so sorry to all Shahkruk's fan, I am one of them, don't worry :]

Here is your warning that if I'm in the mood again those prompts might potentially have stuff like: gore, blood, killing etc etc, you know what I mean.

My goofy ahh looking up if it's whatcha or what'cha

[riveramorylunar]

The pit’s fire was all the warmth Y/N needed that night. It was bright enough to scare the darkness away and what could bother to hide in it.

Its fire that it held in stone and dying wood, would bring life to her face. The defined features feeling the graze of its heat as it speckled its spotlight on her and her crew of four.

It was just the small group of friends that invited the girl to go camping with them.

A particular blonde would be the reason for that though. “So, Y/N, we normally don’t see you a lot lately. It’s like you’ve become a hermit.”

Steve Rogers would say with a small awkward smile as he sat next to you in his blue and red camping chair that would squeak every so often when he moved. “Oh-, it’s just because of homework and other school stuff you know? It’s been keeping me busy and stuck up in my room.”

Y/N replied to her classmate and friend while waving a small hand gesture as she talked.

“And, um- well you know finals too! Things need to be turned in and graded before the due date because you know… um- graduation.”

She said partially lying. She actually was trying to get things turned in so her grades looked as nice as a straight line of hammered nails in a block of wood. But to be more truthful, she was mostly binge watching horror movies all over again. Scream, A Nightmare on Elm Street, all the Halloween movies, Trick or Treat, all the old classics!

“Huh, you could have just done a study group with us.”

He would simply say while gesturing to Bucky, Natasha and Wanda who were just having a conversation until his words interrupted them causing the spotlight to be on the girl who was just trying to enjoy the night without disturbance.

“Well—“

Y/N dragged the “L” in her one worded speech as she scratched the back of her neck while avoiding the glances.

“Steve, leave her alone. She probably wanted privacy from your chattering mouth.”

Bucky interrupted with a small smirk as his comment made Steve’s ears as red as an elf’s.

“Do I really chatter that much?”

Steve asked while leaning back in his seat causing another squeak to be heard. That thing was too old, like him, himself but in the mind. “Yes.” Was the simple answer that spewed out of everyone’s mouth. “Roger, not to be rude but sometimes when we’re studying you’ll mumble for hours on how we should be on task and how important this project is without even starting it.”

Natasha spoke while crossing her legs to eat a Marshmallow that was almost burnt to the crisp, but in her words. “It was better that way, crisp outside and gooey inside is the way to go.” Her words repeated in Y/N’s head for a second from earlier.

As her mind was having a small relapse. Her closed off brain would return once it heard bloody murder but it was just Wanda when she looked up quickly. Natasha had flung a small leaf that resembled a dead bug at her. The laughter in the air was intoxicating and she would soon suck it all in too causing a small laugh to escape her lips that played a small smile at Wanda. She was her horror buddy and from her looks she gave Y/N earlier would say she probably already knew what she was doing the entire time up in her room which is honestly understandable because a small horror break isn’t a bad thing. She just wished Y/N invited her along, which will cause a long conversation in the car once the group starts to head back tomorrow in the morning. “Okay- okay, I’m sorry Nat!”

Wanda said with laughter being her oxygen now.

“Do not steal my marshmallow again!”

Natasha said with a pout playing on her face that made it more funny. “It’s not my fault you have to make such good marshmallows-“

Which was a lie because Y/N clearly remembered how Wanda had a small fight with Natasha on what was the proper way to cook with marshmallows for a food drive when they were making small sweet desserts. While the argument began, Y/N would hear something behind her... It was only the wind she thought, but the heavy breathing didn’t sound like the screeching wind. Gloved hands would grab at her shoulders which caused her to scream from her throat like a rooster at day. The laughter for Wanda soon became Y/N’s as Steve let go of her shoulders and took off the bloody hockey mask.

“And I thought you weren’t afraid of scary things-“

Steve’s chuckle caught in every word as he sat back down causing another damn squeak. “Ya, I’m not when it’s in movies, jackass.”

She said while punching his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you brought that damn mask.”

Bucky said while glancing back at him. “It was for the scare but you know how I like to get when I tell stories. Especially scary ones.”

Steve said while scraping his fingertips against the rough markings of the “old mask” he probably bought from the dollar store. Bucky never liked scary things for a guy like him which was completely fine. It was just shocking kinda from how he dressed and acted but there’s a surprise to everyone. “Well, since you brought it. Go on and tell the tale of the poor girl who died here.”

Wanda said while sitting up to have her full attention on Steve as he was the best to tell these types of things. “Well perfect timing, I need to go take a piss so I’m out of here.”

Bucky announced while standing up, the fire making it easier to see his fake arm. “Gross, you don’t have to announce it every single time whenever you need to take a piss Bucky.”

Nat said with a cringe expression that strained over her pale face. “Well I’m sorry, I’ll go use the “powder” room.”

He mocked as there was no bathroom unless you wanted to walk far to the community one, which no one wanted to do at this time, this dark.

Y/N rolled her eyes at them before nudging Steve to continue. “Go on, I want to hear this one.”

She said while sitting up a little straighter.

“Well, we all know the well known fact that this place used to be an old boot camp, that’s why you can find so many old cabins and obstacle courses.

It’s said a girl was dropped off here by her father on the first day of summer. Her name was Maria and was said to be the only girl there causing her to be toyed with by the boys. She shocked most of them on what she could do and how much strength she already had, but that didn’t stop some from picking on her.”

He explained while he lifted the mask up to rest against his chin. “They would push her in mud, pick fights with her, frame her about things that she didn’t do. All the high school bully shit one could go through. They tried to make it hell for Maria at the point she would leave, but she couldn’t.”

Steve said while gesturing with his broad hands that waved in the cool air around them. “It was seven weeks stuck at the boot camp when they were practicing with real grenades for the training course that week. Grant, one of the kids at the boot camp, would invite her towards the lake with a small group of friends he had. Of course she wouldn’t oblige until he mocked her, calling her a coward. With a sharp glare she would follow him to prove what he said was wrong. When they made it they managed to gather extra grenades somehow. They would be throwing them in the big lake to create giant explosions of water that were too far for any superior officer to hear or notice. Grant would give Maria a grenade and invited her to throw one. She didn’t like the waste in supplies and she could tell it was a waste of fish too as she saw the corpses of scales and fish eyes in the gloomy water. Without her knowledge, Grant gave her one without the pin. As she held it she was about to give it back to him before all of sudden the boy pushed her in the lake. The bomb exploded as she hit the water!”

He would say loudly as he stood up for a dramatic effect. As if on queue, a loud snap in the trees would alert the three. “That was probably Bucky coming back, or just an animal.”

Wanda would say with a small chuckle as she combed her hand through her long hair. They would go back to the haunting tale, but Y/N’s eyes lingered in the darkness, hoping something would reveal itself but nothing did. Probably a bird… she thought.

“Anyway- heh Um.. she was said to have died from drowning in the water, but it’s said a lightning strike is what brought her back to life as it flowed through the lake’s body.

Pulling herself out of the lake she would have lost part of her hand, face, she was atrocious to look at! Walking back with more strength than a bear she would break through the cabin doors and revenge herself by killing Grant and his friends…

It’s said she covers her face with a hockey mask that Grant had as a trophy, but others say it’s a reminder of that night.

It’s said if you visit here, you have a chance to find her roaming the old camp grounds, waiting for her father to return and to chase anyone who stays…”

Steve said while placing the mask on his face.

“Okay this story is kinda bulshit- Where did the lighting strike come from all of sudden? how did it bring her back to life?”

Natasha spoke as she leaned back into her red camping chair.

“I don’t know, it was just a part of the story when I was told it.”

Steve explained while Y/N rolled her eyes. “Clearly you never read Frankenstein.”

She said, making Wanda snicker a little.

As they all spoke they would hear footsteps following along branches and leaves that covered the pathway.

“Finally Bucky, how long does it-“

Wanda’s words were interrupted by a plastic arm being thrown in the middle of the group, landing in the fire. If you looked closely enough they could see the specks of red dripping from its melting surface. “Holy fucking shit- Bucky are you insane?!”

Nat would spew words out fast as she stood up looking behind her. She wasn’t met with Bucky’s eyes, different blue irises would stare back- but she wouldn’t know that for now until the figure grew closer. As their footsteps grew louder, their stances would be more frozen in place. A dark mask, weathered and old would show itself in the tinted lighting of orange from the fire. “Ohh- good prank guys! Come on Steve tell Bucky to quit it.”

Nat spoke with some sarcasm as Wanda stepped back a little. “N-Nat, that’s not Bucky!”

Steve yelled but his warning was too late. A hammer would smash against her body’s ribcage. The feeling of her bones crunching and shattering in her would let a scream out through her throat and coughs that burned without a breath of air in between.

Natasha’s body fell in front of them against the dirt ground. One hit wasn’t enough as the steel block beated the body until the squirms and gasping was over like a bug being squished.

As the killer of Natasha was standing back to their full height, Steve would force himself on them. Pushing them to the ground as his hand reached for the hammer. “Run, …Run!”

His words loud and heavy as Y/N and Wanda ran into the forest without a thought on her mind as it was already filled and intoxicated with confusion and fear that crawled among their skin. Y/N could hear the blonde’s screams from afar as the beating of steel and flesh meat would echo to ears that were blocked by palms to hide away from the horrific noise. As they ran Wanda’s eyes would widen and reflect the hanging Bucky against tree branches. The murder scenes from horror movies didn’t prepare her eyes to see the unrecognizable body of her friend.

Y/N would pull the frozen Wanda along by her wrist until the heavy breathing of a woman would come closer. Calloused hands gripping the wrist of the brunette would force a whimper out of her lips as they pulled her closer to them harshly. If it wasn’t for the killer’s strength, Wanda would have had a chance at running away if it hadn’t for the harsh pull of her arm that yanked the humérus from its socket. The yank would force her face into the bloody hammer.

The sprinkle of blood sprayed against Y/N’s face lightly caused a sickness to dawn on her and a feeling that made her mouth gape open but nothing would come out but noises of squeaks and words that couldn’t escape her vocals completely. Y/N’s hands covering her face as if it was to hide and be safe, to not see the dull eyes that were hooded through the creases of a mask she could barely see from the darkness. Y/N could hear the breathing, but couldn't feel the heat of a body that would normally radiate off of someone. But it was only a guess and a need to be safe that she swung her fists towards the tall being. Eyes still closed she would hear a small grunt and groan before the sound of an object hit the dirt ground that crackled dying leaves.

E/C eyes would meet the face that flourished at moonlight. Only a small examination would tell her the anger that she felt around this woman she saw. Even if a third of her face was blown off and the rest scarred wouldn’t stop her from seeing the clenched jaw and the creased brow that hung above the eye. It came to realization that this… was Maria from the boot camp tale.

As it finally strikes Y/N’s head she would be pushed against a tree’s bark that pierced her back through thin fabric.

“I’m going to murder you.”

The heavy breath that followed along with words that rasped out of cut lips and clenched teeth. The heaving body in front of her was like an animal’s.

The shock of this reveal was too overwhelming for the body as Y/N couldn’t utter a word out, and if she tried it would only be a cry that would be barely auditable. Maria would drop her hammer to the ground and grab the woman by her neck to rise from the soil and beat her back against the tree harshly one more time. As bony hands choke Y/N out of oxygen that her lungs died to inhale, so would her vision as it became a blur of tears and how light headed she became. Y/N’s hands would give a fighting chance and scratch at the muscled arms and hands but her nails digging into spoiled skin wouldn’t harm or disturb this psychopath.

But she wasn’t strong enough, and the loss of air didn’t help much either. Her hands giving out and only settling against the wrists of Maria.

Sight becoming vivid, would make the killer’s face a blur, only recognizing those glacier eyes before it became a blank canvas.

When Maria noticed the squirming stopped she would have dropped her body on the crud, grassy ground. Leaving a light thump to be heard.

“Jesus…”

Maria muttered through her lips as she held Y/N’s figure close to her body beneath the blankets on the couch. Her eyes would squint at the scenes being performed before her. She wasn’t really scared but rather disturbed by how violent someone could create a character. “What, scared you?”

Y/N asked with a cocky grin as she leaned her head up to see her girlfriend. “No- not at all- just surprised. It’s not like those other movies we watched. It’s more graphic.”

“Ya.That's why this one is a yes and no for me.

Hey- you know what it’s almost Halloweennn, you could dress up as her!”

Y/N spoke with a smile towards Maria only causing her to chuckle and shake her head. “Hmph, no way in hell.”

“Come on.. please?”

Y/N only needed to ask once with her pleading eyes. It made Maria chuckle and sigh. “Fine- fine, you win Princess.”

Her response made her girlfriend’s eyes become stars as she started to fan over the idea of Maria dressing up as a horror character. “Yesss, it would be perfect! You look so much like her too.”

Y/N would explain excitedly as Maria placed an arm over her shoulder on the couch. Her glacier eyes would slowly glance back at the hammer that was kicked under the small night table’s wooden figure that displayed itself near the front door.

“Ya… I would.”

HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!!!

This was absolutely amazing 😩🤌 I swear I couldn't stop smiling and giggling. Absolutely insane!!! I love it so much thank you thank you thank you for sharing this awesome piece of work 🥹🙏

Serial Killer Maria Hill might be my new favorite Maria Hill variant thanks to you buddy!!

[madstronaut]

a little "palette" cleanser if you will 🎨 sorry i'll see myself out

obligatory faficowrimo masterlist link: https://www.tumblr.com/madstronaut/741107471699066880/faficowrimo-the-challenge-comment-on-every

Reading: imprimatura by @soapskneebrace

ahhhh one of the earliest soap fics i read and still makes me feel so tender and gooey when I think about it <3

I also loved how artist!reader’s first thoughts were “decadent muscle” HAHAHAHAHA SOAP WHO? I AM NOW CALLING HIM JOHN “DECADENT MUSCLE” MACTAVISH

“-his mouth rests at an angle that suggests he often smiles.”

fucking obsessed with this line!!!! what a description

Soap’s grip is firm, the kind of firm that suggests he can squeeze much, much tighter if he needs to. 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰yesplease

You turn his arm to see it more fully. “Oh. Nice tattoo.”

He looks at the ink as if it is entirely new to him, and then gives an easy grin. “Thanks. I’ve got a few more too. coughicanshowyounowprivatelycough Hope they aren’t hard to draw.”

this whole interaction has me shredding my pillow in my jaws - not letting go after a too long handshake? turning his arm to admire the tattoo? soap brain going brr and acting like he’s just seen his tattoo for the first time? RRRAGHAHHHGHG

i love how she clocks the colors for his eyes and skin and names of his specific muscles as they move too <3 ughh the artist reader is so well fleshed out which is a particular favorite of mine when it comes to fics <3

“It looks as if he’s moving around the sticks of vine charcoal with one outstretched finger; he pulls his hand guiltily away when you reenter the studio, crossing his arms over his chest as if to hide the evidence of his snooping.”

once again whoever at infinity ward came up with soap’s journal/sketches needs a fucking raise and promotion; it’s one of my favorite bits of canon about him and the idea of him picking it up again post-deployment just makes my heart absolutely a c h e

Beauty is cheap in art, but you notice it all the same—appreciate the strong brows, the hard angle of his jaw, the dark stubble of a beard you suspect he can’t keep shaved down, and the long scar that cuts through it across his chin. The light brown of his complexion is speckled with sun exposure, and there are the faintest of creases at the corners of his eyes, which you expect will deepen into genuine, gorgeous crow’s feet as he ages.

loved this whole exchange but that last line once again almost made me tear up knowing canonically, we won’t get the chance to see him age…but in fanfic we can and will 🥹🥹🥹

He looks at you, and catches your survey. You can see him realize you’d been watching, the knowledge of it blooming in ocean blue eyes like ink dropped onto linen.

obsessed with this last line. imho this whole fic and the way its written is a work of art itself 💙💙💙💙

And now he’s looking at you—attention flitting across your face, dropping down your body and jumping back up to meet your gaze. mmm soap can give me elevator eyes any time

His smile remains, cocksure and easy. “Let’s.” 

“That’s a shame. I’m right partial to it.”

the amount of rizz imprimatura!soap has got me full-body blushin i stg but also artist!reader setting him up to knock it out of the park with those comments? “we don’t do foreplay in this studio” MY SIBLING IN CHRIST DO YOU REALIZE THIS STATEMENT CANCELS ITSELF OUT

“There’s not a hard angle to you, all sweet and soft, but when you meet his gaze during introductions there’s a sharpness to you that skewers him through the chest.” i fucking loooooooove when writers describe the “at first sight” moments

The corners of your mouth tug upward, just a bit, and you look away, clearly bashful. Something in Soap’s chest starts beating a drum. my realtime reaction: 👅 👅 👅 👅🥰🥰🥰🥰 

“You should,” you say, and he looks at your thigh shamelessly as you pat it—even beneath your jeans, he can see the ripple of the impact. mm yes proud members of Thick Thigh Save Lives Club rise upppp

He can’t help it—Soap’s imagination runs wild. Titanic, draw-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls wild. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA this is canon to me you cannot change my mind

i am also loving the keep calm and carry on professionalism of artist!reader in the face of having to contend with seeing naked soap

he has to resist the urge to flex. Instead he watches you as you look at him.

these small revealing lil bits make me absolutely feral for this soap

He half-wishes he could step out of his body and join you, curious as he is about what you’re seeing, what your students will see. 

me too, sir, me too. i also love seeing artist!reader through soap’s eyes as well

“First time someone’s wanted to run away when I’m takin’ my clothes off, I won’t lie—” fucking CACKLING at this line

besides the absofuckinglutely incredible writing and fleshing out of this lil meetcute - i did see author's note that she drew on her own time as a fine art major <3 <3 <3 <3 and honestly some of the best stories ive read drew from IRL experiences by writers - but the suggestions and possibilities of this fic post-mwiii is what makes this such a favorite for me, peeking through a window into one of the what ifs? of another possible longer lifetime and lifeline for our beloved soap <3

so many chef's kisses and flowers being thrown at you from me bracey 💕💕💕

[bored-frog]

Final Outcome

I knew, I was fully aware that you were not genuine, that I was going to be left alone, crying as I crawl on the floor, moaning through every ache, while sticky-gooey-embarrassing-snotty tears coat my face, feeling another soul crushing emptiness from someone new; Being right from the start.

Logically, I understand that it never would have worked for us, from the very beginning you were already hurting me, making me feel awful and appreciated at the same time, such a dirty trick; My emotions refused to acknowledge this helpful honesty.

You're so different from every other person I've ever clutched onto to an interest for, you "actually" held onto your very own interest in me, in us, in the beautiful bud I wanted nothing more than to blossom, blooming bright on a decaying earth; Another fantasy I let take over.

It's so ironic that I tossed out one boob, only to meet another; Boobie and Boober.

You saw the crack in my armor, one of many I try to hide, you snuck in, sinking your sharp fangs onto a naked sheep, you never had to do that to her, she would have gifted you with everything; Rubbing your dirty paws on the doormat that is my heart.

Every word I wrote for you was true, I made them each because I wanted to show you how wonderfully confused you made me, how I enjoyed the way you deliciously twisted up my insides from the deep dark depths of my gushing organs; Falling too hard, fully ready to plummet into a filthy-messy-meaty pancake.

I painted you the picture I envisioned every night when we talked, a piece so personal from the love that gets taken advantage of, you saw my canvas of truth and didn't bat an eye as you lit it on fire, leaving me to watch as you tied me up to a tree and vanished; A fool who was too vulnerable too soon.

In our final moments, I did anything and everything I could to not end it, but you...you did not, you did not try for me, I wanted to talk it all through because you were hurting me and I didn't understand why, you looked at me with pure disgust as I told you through cracked tears how painful it feels, the way you were mentally fucking me up.

Why?

Why would you do this to me?

Why would you pretend to give a damn about someone who is already broken?

Actions truly are louder than words, my actions screamed from collapsing lungs, it could be heard all throughout my encased home of love, shaking rooftops, but yours? I laugh like a maniac at what you decided to do, the choice you made to protect yourself and destroy the enchanting-caring-lovely gifts I had to offer.

Yours told me the very thing I did not want to believe, the inner voice inside did her best to warn me, I should have listened, but instead I welcomed in harshly-cold-bitter vile spat at from an angry man who hides himself well; A lesson I'll always repeat...it seems.

Through a burning-blurry-heaving haze, shakey hands take hold of the cruel tether that linked us, painfully slow, I begrudgingly begin to shred each fiber, completely tearing myself of the overwhelming string I used to gaze upon fondly; Separation...once again.

I'll miss you, even though you do not reciprocate the mushy feeling, I'll look at the time and think of everything we shared, the beautiful flower that could have grown, but I'll accept that this was how we were meant to end, that you were no good for me, and I carried nothing you would have really wanted, I was just a tempting craving you swirled around your sharp tongue; Mourning through acceptance, maturity.

Goodnight, Boober.

- Autumn(Me)

[euphoricfilter]

TO ADD ON YOUR CONDENSENDING HORNY THOUGHT: I always wanted to see some kind of fic or writing where it was this hard dom!yoongi and his sub who is usually VERY subby wanting to try and dominate yoongi, but he knows she wouldn’t be able to do it so he just eggs her on like “okay. Do it.” She might try and spank him in the thigh or something, but she’s scared of doing it too hard so he’s like “you hit like a pussy. Is it because you want yours filled yours up?” And through the whole time he’s just dirty talking to her and degrading her while restrained or something like “even with my hands tied you couldn’t do jack shit. But you like it like that, don’t you?” He wouldn’t command her to do anything, but those little degrading/praising comments he throws at her to make her slip more and more into that sub space type of mind. “With that face you’re making you’d do anything to have me fuck open your cunt, but that’s okay. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” AND HE WOULD DO IT ALL WITH THAT CHESHIRE SMILE “aww. It’s okay. Not everyone makes smart decisions, but you look so fucking good trying.” (OOOO IM PROUD OF THAT LINE THAT ONE CAME STRAIGHT FROM MY NOGGIN)

Okay horny thought over. Sorry for the wall of text :,)

OMG YOUR MIND

this concept would be so fun to play with and i love love love condescending dom behavior it’s so delicious

maybe she tries to recall what yoongi does to her but just gets all squirmy because she remembers how good it feels, and yoongi would look so smug. you know he’d be smiling as he told her to do it as well, soft encouragement because he knows that she doesn’t have a dominant bone in her body and all it would take are a few words for her to be begging him to help her, because maybe she’s his dumb little baby who always needs his help :(

maybe she instantly apologizes after trying to spank him and he hits her with “you’ve always been quite fragile, haven’t you baby?” faux pout on his face at her flushed cheeks “too soft to even spank me properly”

him restrained on a chair the whole time 😭

the degrading praise, the m/c would melt.

maybe she sits on his lap, only she starts to rut a against him completely forgetting she was trying to punish him and of course yoongi would tell her how well she’s doing— the poor thing so close, drunk off her impending orgasm that she doesn’t realize she never really had been in control from the start

oh no he’d definitely let her do her thing and then tease her for not being able to do anything. maybe she’s a bit of a crybaby as well and she’s really trying to prove her point but she just gets so overwhelmed and yoongi wouldn’t be able to hide his smile “need my help, darling?” “a little too stupid to make yourself feel good, need my help? of course you do, you always need my help, baby, but that’s okay, that’s what i’m here for, isn’t it?”

stuff like that would 100% slip her further into sub space

OMG IF YOU DONT WRITE ALREADY YOU SHOULD IM GIGGLING AT THESE THEYRE SK PERFECT

“well done for trying, darling. but maybe you’re a little too silly to do it alone, that’s why i’m here to help, okay?” :(

RAH I LOVE THE CONDESCENDING DOM STUFF IT MAKES ME FEEL ALL GOOEY

don’t apologize, we share quite a few horny thoughts on my page and i giggle writing these 😭 they’re so fun